Sins of the Father
by dreaZALA
Summary: Jace Herondale returns from juvie after attacking Jonathon and ruining his football career. Clary intervened to save Jace, though now she needs some saving herself. Jocelyn died, leaving Clary at the mercy of Valentine and her brother. Jace seeks justice for his father's murder, but the closer he gets to the Morgensterns and the truth, the closer he gets to Clary. AU/AH.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

PROLOGUE

Blood splashed across the grass amid the freshly accumulated dew, staining the blades a deep red even in the early morning light. The knife was pulled so viciously from the body it had been planted in that it sent an arch of blood through the air, and Clary felt it splash hotly across her legs and the hem of her white sundress as she ran across the lawn toward the fight.

Her brother's hair was braided among the grass, the fine white strands intermingling with the green in a fine dance of color, and she watched with her wide, innocent eyes as blood seeped down from his face to join it. His black eyes were twisted in pain and his mouth was wide open, and though she knew he was screaming, her ears were so clouded over from the shock of the scene before her that she couldn't hear anything at all.

The sun shone off the golden hair of her brother's attacker, but the locks fell down in his face and concealed his eyes from her. She could only see a slim fragment of his expression, and it was so twisted in grief and in anger that she felt her heart drop to her stomach.

She wanted to hug him. He was straddling her brother in the middle of the lawn in front of her home, sinking a knife into the soft flesh of his shoulder, and all she could think was that he looked like he needed her more than her brother did in that moment.

She reached for the boy, closing her hand over the wrist with the knife, and in his blind fury he swung the arm back to stop her.

She felt pain, but only distantly, as the hair had fallen back from his face and she found herself lost in his eyes. They were only a few shades darker than his hair, but they were so beautiful that she found she could not bring herself to look away.

The brilliant orbs widened when they took in the sight of her, and they dropped from hers to something before her, widening even further still. She followed his gaze down almost reluctantly, to her hands that she held out in front of her, and then she felt the pain that she hadn't really felt before.

A deep gash ran across both of the palms of her hands, and blood was dripping from them in rivets to join Jonathon's in the grass.

The boy looked back up to meet her eyes, his expression twisted in horror at what he had done, and the knife fell from his trembling hand. It dropped noiselessly to the grass beside her brother.

Clary felt hands grab at her from behind, and in a rush of sound her hearing came back to her. She looked down and knew the hands belonged to her father, as she had seen the backs of them too many times. For the first time in years, they were holding her with concern rather than in anger. His voice was a soothing presence in her ear.

People in uniform were shouting across the lawn, running past them to tend to her brother. A couple of officers were holding towels to his shoulder to stop the bleeding until the paramedics arrived, while others were shoving the golden boy onto the grass and pulling his arms behind his back.

Clary heard the snap of the metal cuffs on his wrists like gunshots in her ears.

* * *

CHAPTER 1

Clary woke with a start, and found herself tangled in the sheets of her bed. She sat up slowly, her heart beating so hard that it was nearly choking in her throat, and she pressed her trembling hand to her chest and willed it to slow. Sweat was beaded on her brow and her chest, and she felt one of the beads drip slowly down her nose and another between the soft mounds of her breasts.

She used the back of her hand to wipe them away, and fell back down against her pillow with a sigh.

The dream was not so much a dream as a memory, one that she gained four years before. She had been twelve when Herondale had attacked her brother, and though he had lived through it, her life had never been the same.

She'd been plagued by nightmares for years after, and though they'd eventually stopped, they'd returned two weeks ago when her and Jonathon were told of Herondale's imminent release from the juvenile delinquency facility he had been held at since his arrest.

Their father, Valentine, had been beyond furious with the news. He lost his mind completely when he discovered that Herondale would be attending the same school as his children, though he assured them it would likely not be for long. According to him, Herondale had been released due to overflow, but he had been in so many fights in juvie that they would be forced to take him back in no time. Herondale was seventeen now, like Jonathon, and he was only a few months from being held as an adult.

Clary glanced at the clock beside her bed and groaned when the red light screamed 2:00 AM back at her. The first day of school was tomorrow, Herondale would be there, and she wasn't sure she was ready for any of it at all.

She closed her eyes, and after a long while, she was able to fall asleep again. She woke up later to the sound of her alarm clock blaring, and reached out a hand blindly from under her sheets to turn it off. She'd stayed up late working on a painting, and she was tired.

She blinked through blurry eyes at the numbers, and automatically glanced over the scar that ran across her palm as she drew her hand back. Her stomach turned nervously at the thought of seeing Herondale, but she brushed it aside as she got up to get ready.

* * *

Once Clary had showered and dressed, she stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom and pulled nervously at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, as if they would magically ride up on their own and expose all of her carefully kept secrets. She wished that she could hide the truth from herself, but she could still picture the discolored skin even through the thick gray fabric that covered her arms.

She heard her name being called from down the stairs, and dread crashed over her in a single, unforgiving wave. Thoughts of Herondale took a backseat to her more pressing fears, ones that she lived with on a daily basis.

She turned off the light in the bathroom and crossed through her room. She grabbed her backpack from the top of the chest at the end of her bed without breaking stride and ghosted down the stairs.

She had barely made it off the last step before she felt a hand grab her arm and thrust her down the open hallway toward the kitchen. She stumbled in surprise, but didn't fall to the ground or stop to look behind her.

''Good morning to you too, Father,'' she said through clenched teeth.

He emerged into the kitchen after her. ''That's the attitude that gets you into so much trouble, Clarissa,'' Valentine reminded her brusquely, before gracefully dropping into his seat at the kitchen table and unfolding the newspaper he had clenched in his hand. ''This paper should have been waiting for me, along with my breakfast. I had to go and get it off the driveway myself.''

''I know,'' she said tightly, going to the fridge and pulling out the ingredients she'd need for breakfast. She set them on the kitchen island. ''I make you breakfast and fetch the paper for you like a dog _every_ morning. It's not like I forgot.''

Valentine turned the page of the paper, snapping it open in a silent threat. Clary flinched automatically, and started cracking the eggs she had set on the counter into the bowl to mix for his morning omelet.

''So what made this morning different?'' he asked, his voice calm and quiet, yet demanding all at the same time.

''I-I don't know,'' Clary stumbled, too caught up in her hurry to fix breakfast to make up a lie. To her horror, his head snapped up and he gazed across the room at her, his expression calm and his eyes furious. His nostrils flared, as if he could smell her guilt in the air.

''Did you stay up late painting again, Clarissa?''

''N-No-''

But Valentine was already out of his seat and taking the steps two at a time with his long legs, and Clary stumbled up after him.

''Please-!''

When she reached her room, he was already tearing apart her closet in search of her work. When he found the canvas from the night before that she had strategically slipped behind a bunch of clothes and an assortment of boxes, she reached for his arm to stop what she knew was coming.

He backhanded her without even hesitating, making her stumble back against the wall, and his fingers worked the canvas until it broke and ripped to shreds.

Her tears were hot and angry down her cheeks, but two strong hands on her shoulders stopped her from doing anything she would regret. She glared in anger at the remains of her artwork on the floor, refusing to look at her father as he calmly brushed his hands off and walked past her out the door.

''You knew what would happen when he found out,'' Jonathon said calmly from behind her, and she turned her head to the side until she could see the pitch black eyes of the boy that stood at her back. Though he towered over her by a foot and a half, he had his head tilted down toward her so that the eye contact was easy. ''You should know better by now.''

Clary didn't like her brother any more than she liked her father. She shied away from his hands and the momentary comfort that the touch had brought, knowing it wasn't real.

She turned her head away from the concern she saw in his eyes as he gazed at her, ignoring the urge to call him on the forced emotion, and sank down to the floor next to the remains of her painting.

Ever since her mother had died when Clary was ten, her father had denied her talent because it reminded him too much of her mother. Though her death had been an accident, he always got angry at even the slightest hint of her.

''You might want to go finish making breakfast,'' Jonathon reminded her. ''He won't let you leave until you do, and you don't want to be late for the first day of school.''

Clary grimaced automatically, and her stomach turned. She wiped hastily at the remnants of the tears on her face. ''I wouldn't mind not going at all.''

''What do you mean?'' Jonathon asked, but she didn't need to answer. Realization dawned on his face and anger flickered on his expression for brief a moment, before he pushed it away and feigned indifference. ''Oh. I almost forgot.''

Clary narrowed her eyes, and when she spoke her voice was slightly anxious. ''How could you forget?'' she demanded. ''After what he did?''

Jonathon looked down at her with surprise on his face, before it twisted and turned into an expression of poorly disguised condescension. ''Are you scared, little sister?'' he teased, amusement playing on his lips.

She felt her cheeks heat, and tossed the few scraps of her painting that she had been trying to salvage across the room in defeat. She sighed and set her mouth in a tight line, looking up at him with serious eyes.

''Not for me.''

* * *

Author's Note: Since I am hopelessly, incredibly in love with this series (as well as The Infernal Devices), I thought it was time to write my own fanfiction for it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and enjoy the rest that are to come. Please review :).


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Clary went back to making breakfast for Valentine and Jonathon, who was now sitting beside her father at the table. The room was silent besides the sizzle of the bacon in its skillet for a long time before the silence was eventually broken.

''You have practice today, Jonathon?''

Jonathon glanced over at their father. ''Yeah,'' he said. ''Coach said I would start as defense as usual though.''

Clary looked up to see a red flush of anger gather of Valentine's cheeks. ''I haven't been spending shitloads of money on physical therapy for your arm for you to play defense. You were the star quarterback in junior high.''

''That was before Herondale-''

''No excuses,'' her father snapped, causing Jonathon to fall immediately silent, though Clary saw a defiant flash of anger in his eyes. ''The new physical therapist guaranteed that your arm would be back to normal by the beginning of the season. You must not be trying hard enough.''

''Yes, Father,'' Jonathon mumbled.

Clary used to feel sympathy toward her brother when her father would terrorize him about his failing football career. After the attack, it was brought to light that Herondale had purposefully gone for his throwing arm, to ruin his future and punish her father for something that Clary was not privy to. But once he had joined Valentine in his physical abuse of her, because he needed something small and weak to take out his frustrations on, she had lost any empathy she felt toward him.

The room returned to its former silence, and after Clary served breakfast and they ate their fill, Jonathon and Clary left for school.

* * *

Clary covered up the mark that had formed on her cheek from her father's strike to the best of her ability on the car ride over, but she still saw Simon's eyes drift to it when she joined him in front of the school.

He didn't comment, though she could see how much it pained him not to. Her best friend knew about the bruises on her arms, too, but had learned a lesson from her father about opening his mouth about it. It is impossible to accuse the Chief of Police of abusing his daughter without repercussions, and there was more than one scar on his body to prove it.

''Are you doing okay?'' he asked, making sure to keep the question neutral. Jonathan always seemed to be close by, ready to rat him out if he stepped a hair out of line. He didn't approve of her being friends with a boy, or her having friends in general.

''I'm nervous,'' she admitted quietly, leaning against the cool brick at her back. ''He's coming back today.''

Simon nodded in understanding, leaning against the wall beside her, but he turned his body so that only his shoulder pressed against the brick and he was still facing her. ''You don't think he'll do anything, do you?'' he asked her. ''I mean, it's his first day out of juvy, I doubt the first thing on his mind is going back.''

Clary nodded absently, her eyes moving slowly over the crowd.

''You think you will recognize him? It's been four years,'' he asked her.

But his question was answered a few seconds later as he watched her face blanch of color and her eyes widen at what she saw over his shoulder.

''It's going to be okay, Clary,'' he said, reaching down and giving her hand a quick squeeze before dropping it. He silently hoped that no one saw the gesture. ''He only saw you that once. I doubt he will even remember you.''

Clary heard him, but his words seemed like they were spoken through a fog, her attention so heavily tuned to the person walking such a short distance away that she was barely aware of anything else.

She'd forgotten how beautiful he was. Even as she thought it now, she knew that she was crazy not to have remembered.

His eyes were the color of pure gold, and though he looked like an angel in the early morning light, she knew better. Hair a few shades lighter than his eyes was smoothed back from his face, shining brightly even through the dark shadows his hood cast over it.

He wore a sleeveless hoodie over a normal black tee that accentuated the perfect definition of his body and showcased the toned muscles of his arms. His equally toned legs were encased in tight black jeans that disappeared into a pair of steel-toed leather boots. His expression was guarded and tense, even as he carried on a conversation with the two people flanking him as he walked.

The girl on his right was beautiful, with hair that tumbled all the way down to her ass. Her black slip of a dress was dark, and bared a fair amount of her pale skin to the eye. Her own eyes were dark, with smokey makeup that made her look like she belonged in an old gothic movie.

The boy on his left was dressed casually in a black dress shirt and jeans, his dark hair cropped short and styled to perfection. His striking features betrayed his relation to the girl, with the exception of his cold blue eyes.

Clary swallowed hard as they walked past, and averted her gaze to the ground.

Simon was less subtle, staring openly after them, though Clary suspected it was the girl he was watching after and not the golden boy from her nightmares.

Clary let out a sigh of relief after they had passed a fair distance away, and smacked Simon on the arm to return his attention from the girl's ass. Simon smiled shamelessly back at her, and just as Clary let herself smile back, thinking she was in the clear, she heard a voice call out after the newcomers.

''Look who's back.''

Clary sucked in a sharp breath at the voice, and Simon's shocked expression when he looked over her shoulder confirmed that her dread was warranted.

She turned and looked to find Jonathon standing in front of the three, his arms crossed over his chest and a few of his fellow football teammates at his back.

Clary was moving before she could stop herself, and shook Simon's hand off when he reached to stop her.

''Jonathan Herondale,'' her brother said, a predatory smile forming on his face. ''I thought you would be smarter than to show your face here again.''

''I go by Jace now,'' the golden boy corrected with a smirk, pulling down his hood with both hands. The action brought attention to his arms, as well as the detail there that Clary had missed during her initial inspection of him.

All along his arms were various tattoos, nonsensical patterns of pure black that traced the lengths of his arms and disappeared into the sleeves of his shirt.

''I wasn't particularly thrilled to share the same name as the son of a murderer,'' Jace continued casually, and the expression on Jonathon's face made her catch her breath.

His hands were on Jace in a flash, and Jace snapped at the two beside him to stay back when they moved to intervene. He kept his hands out to the sides, making sure it was clear that he was not participating in the violence.

''Go ahead,'' he taunted, his voice calm and controlled. ''Follow in daddy's footsteps. You're already an accomplice, why not take the final step?''

Jonathon's face flushed and he raised his right arm back, his fingers clenched tight in a fist, but the strength behind his arm was lacking and it faltered obviously.

''Problem with your arm?''

There were gasps all around from the people that had gathered at the scene, and more people turned toward it out of curiosity. Only a few seconds passed before a crowd had formed around them, stinking of anticipation of a fight.

Jace's taunt was the last straw for Jonathon.

His fist started down, and though Clary knew it wasn't the same as it had been _before_, she found herself shouting out before she could think any better of it.

''Jonathon!''

Her brother's fist faltered, and when he looked over Jace's shoulder at her standing a few feet away, it fell passively back down to his side.

Jace followed his gaze and turned his head to look back at her, and the pools of gold were unreadable as he took in the sight of her. She knew he recognized her, and she braced herself for the sharp remark she expected was coming.

But he turned away indifferently, returning his attention back to Jonathon. He pulled himself free and straightened his shirt with a smirk.

''I see your sister still pulls your strings,'' he mocked, following the words with a silent laugh.

''She pulled your strings that day, too,'' Jonathon reminded him darkly, and the smirk faded slowly from Jace's face.

''Jace, can we go now?'' the girl beside him asked, and though she pretended to speak out of impatience, Clary could have picked up on her anxiety from a mile away.

''Sure, Isabelle,'' Jace said to her, though his eyes never left Jonathon. ''See you around school, Morgenstern.''

With a careless wave, he and his two companions slipped past Jonathon and through the double doors into the school, leaving a horde of gaping mouths in their wake. Just before he disappeared inside, Clary saw Jace glance back in her direction, and she felt her heart jump in her chest.

Jonathon looked over at her, and she met his eyes evenly, despite the fury she saw burning in them. He reached down and took her hand, and she let him pull her through the crowd behind him, waving goodbye to Simon as she went.

He dragged her behind the school where the grounds were deserted, and tossed her hand away like it had burned him. ''You stopped me. You shouldn't have stopped me.''

Clary swallowed hard, watching as his fingers clenched into fists at his sides. ''You would have gotten suspended from school on the very first day,'' she replied. ''And probably kicked off the football team.''

Jonathon shook his head, not buying her explanation. ''You're protecting him,'' he said, his eyes narrowing. The wind picked up then, blowing his silky white hair back from his face so that his black eyes were bared completely to her. ''Like you did that day.''

''He was going to kill you-''

''You didn't care what he was going to do,'' Jonathon said, cutting her off. He reached down, and she gasped as his hand clasped around her already bruised arm. ''You stopped him to protect _him_, not your own _brother_.''

She tried to shake his hand off, but his grip was stone. She resigned to the pain and stopped struggling. ''I'm not having this conversation again,'' she said, setting her jaw stubbornly. ''I'm not going to defend myself to you again.''

''You never had to,'' he said, shaking his head. ''I already know. I always have.''

''He was going to kill you,'' she said again, quietly. ''Does it really even matter why I stopped him?''

He shoved her back and released her arm, watching as she collided with the wall and the breath was knocked out of her. His eyes were not sympathetic as she doubled over and struggled to refill her lungs.

''Yes.''

Clary sank against the wall until she felt the ground cold and solid beneath her, and watched Jonathon's shadow fade as he walked away. The morning bell sounded a few moments after he left, and Clary slowly pulled herself off of the ground and walked stiffly to class.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! PLEASE REVIEW! Even just a few words, it's so encouraging and makes all the difference!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

The day passed without further incident, despite Clary having several classes with Isabelle Lightwood. The wickedly beautiful girl left her alone, though it might have been unintentionally, as the boys were taken with her immediately and refused to give her a moment alone. The only indication that Isabelle was aware at all of her presence was when her eyes sought out the scar on her hand after Clary raised it to answer a question.

Clary sighed in relief when the last bell rang for the day, and she gathered her books into her bag. She waited until almost everyone else had left before she made her way to the door. She had to wait until Jonathon was finished with practice before she could go home, and though she was excited to go to the art room to pass the time, she wasn't in a rush.

Just before Clary passed through, a dark figure emerged into the doorway and collided with her.

Her bag clattered noisily to the floor, and she dropped immediately to gather up her stuff as she muttered a quick apology. The person slowly knelt down beside her to help her, and she looked up to meet a set of cold blue eyes.

Clary's mouth went dry as she stared at Isabelle's brother, and though she was quick to recover from her surprise, she found she could not look away from him. He was watching her with an odd expression, like he was unsure of what to feel when he looked at her and each emotion was fighting for a spot on his face.

''Alec,'' she heard Isabelle greet like a slap, and with her attention returned to the present, Clary quickly finished gathering the rest of her stuff. She muttered a quick thank you to Alec before standing and exiting the room.

In her hurry, she nearly collided with another student, but she looked up just in time to catch herself.

When it was a familiar set of golden eyes looking back at her, she jerked away in surprise and her back slammed against the frame of the door. She hit the bruise that had formed earlier that morning after Jonathon had shoved her into the wall, and winced as a ripple of pain ran through her.

Jace was watching her with a blank expression, and she saw his eyes move over the mark her father had left on her cheek. She felt her face flush in embarrassment, and she quickly ducked her head and brushed past him.

She cried out in surprise when she felt his hand close over her wrist, but his grip with gentle and broke easily when she pulled it away, spinning to face him. She raised her hand, as if it would ward him off, and her racing heart choked in her throat.

Jace was staring at her raised hand, his eyes sweeping over the scar, and though his expression remained blank, he swallowed hard and did not try to stop her again.

She let her hand fall back down and gave him her back, and it took everything in her power not to run as she walked away.

* * *

Clary was halfway through a painting when it came time to leave, and she stored it in one of the cubbies that lined the back wall of the room where it would be safe from her father. She thanked the teacher for letting her stay and exited the art room.

As Clary walked through the empty halls toward the exit, she expected to be alone. When she passed by the music room and heard the tinkling of a few piano keys, she realized that she wasn't.

She checked her watch, not wanting to be late to meet Jonathon, but decided to stop into the room anyway and see who her after school companion was. When she stepped into the doorway, her hand poised to knock on the wood to announce her presence, her breath caught in her throat when she saw who was seated behind the grand piano.

Jace was sitting on the bench with his hands poised over the keys, but his fingers were still against the ivory. Even from across the room, she could see the way his hands trembled violently and the mesh of healed scars that ran over his knuckles.

She watched as he took a deep, calming breath, and his hands tensed to move. He managed to play a good portion of Bach before he missed one too many notes and his face contorted in anger. He slammed his hands down on the keys, the sound violent to Clary's ears, and a small frightened sound forced its way from her throat.

Jace's gaze snapped over to where she had been standing, seeking out the source of the noise, but she was already gone.

* * *

When Clary reached the field, where practice was just finishing up, she sat down on the bleachers to wait it out. She watched as the players all rushed to the edge of the field and took a knee as their coach gave a small speech, and they broke away with a big cheer once he finished.

The coach pulled Jonathon aside as the others headed toward Clary and the equipment that was spread out on the grass in front of the bleachers.

As the players shed their helmets, she was surprised to see Alec Lightwood among them. He met her gaze evenly, giving her the same look as before, and he started to say something when someone stepped in between them.

A familiar set of dark eyes met hers, and she smiled politely as her brother's friend, Sebastian Verlac, picked up his bag and sat down beside her on the bleachers. She cast a glance back in Alec's direction, but she found he had already gone.

''Hey,'' Sebastian said, giving her a brilliant smile. ''How was your summer?''

''It was fine,'' she replied lightly, though she had spent it alone, apart from her father and brother.

It was her own fault. She'd been caught texting Simon two days after school had ended and her father took her phone away and grounded her. Much like Jonathon, he didn't like her having a boy for a friend, or any friend at all. Clary got the feeling it had something to do with her mother, but she didn't know what her mother had done to destroy his trust so much in people outside of their immediate family.

Besides a few trips to the grocery store a month she had been nearly completely isolated. She kept in contact with Simon through messages she would leave with the owner of the used bookstore that was just down the street from the market, Luke, and would occasionally make away with a few books as well. He had been a friend of her mother, when she was alive, and Clary wished she was able to spend more time with him to learn more about her, since Jocelyn had died before she had hardly even gotten to know her.

''Jonathon mentioned that you were in Europe this summer, visiting family,'' she remarked. ''How was that? Beautiful, I'm sure.'' She glanced toward her brother and the coach, who were still talking and walking slowly in their direction from across the field, wishing they would finish soon.

Sebastian shrugged. ''I can think of something that is more beautiful,'' he said lowly, his eyes lighting as he looked down at her, and Clary started slightly, her cheek's blossoming red.

''Sebastian...''

Clary didn't know what to say. Sebastian and Jonathon had been friends for a long time, and he had been around more than any other person outside of their family. She had definitely noticed how attractive he was before, from the silky black locks of his hair to the fine sculpture of his body, but something about him had always put her off. She always blamed it on the fact that he was her brother's friend and it would be weird, but she knew she was only grasping for a reason and she couldn't quite put her finger on the real one.

''I thought about you all summer, Clary,'' he told her, casting a quick glance around to make she sure they were out of ear shot of any of the others around. ''I have been thinking about you for years. I know Jonathon is difficult-''

''How am I difficult?'' Jonathon asked, startling Sebastian so thoroughly that he nearly fell completely off of the bleachers. Clary let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and for the first time was grateful for her brother's presence. ''Anyone care to tell me?''

''No reason,'' Sebastian replied brusquely. He gathered up his stuff, hit fists with Jonathon, and with a final glance at Clary walked off of the field.

Jonathon gathered up his stuff in silence, too distracted to even bother to ask her what she had been talking about with Sebastian, and there was a tension in his shoulders that had not been there when Clary had seen him earlier.

''What did your coach say?'' Clary asked him.

Jonathon grimaced. He slung his bag over his shoulder and motioned wordlessly for her to get up so that they could go.

It was only once they were halfway back to the car that he answered her.

''Dad called him and asked him to let me run through the practice as quarterback to see if I was up to par. He just told me that he thought I would still be better off starting defense,'' Jonathon told her solemnly. He ran a hand down his face. ''Dad's going to kill me.''

Clary opened her mouth to reassure him, but she knew it would be a waste of her breath. They both knew how Valentine would react to the news, and anything she told him otherwise would be a lie.

* * *

Clary fell asleep to the sounds of her father's belt cracking across Jonathon's back, and woke to the feel of her bed moving as her brother slipped under the covers beside her. He moved close, until she could feel the heat of him along the length of her body, and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Despite her less than affectionate feelings for her brother, she did not ask him to leave. She had spent more than her fair share of nights in his room after an especially brutal beating from their father, and she owed him to let him stay.

When she did not push him away, he let his body relax against her and buried his face in the red hair that was spilled across her pillow.

They both fell asleep together a few short moments later, but in the morning when Clary woke, he was gone. The only evidence that he had been there at all was the slight spotting of blood on her sheets from his brutalized back.

* * *

Author's Note: I wanted a sweet moment between Clary and Jonathon, even though he is a bad person, like she had with Valentine in the prologue. My favorite part about Valentine in the books is how Jace felt about him, even after everything came to light, and I wanted to try to capture that in my own story as well, and give Jonathon that same courtesy. I know these chapters have probably been less than exciting, but they will pick up soon, I promise. Keep reading. PLEASE REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

''I'll be leaving for a conference tonight,'' Valentine told Clary at breakfast the next morning. ''I got the invite last minute, but I will be gone for the next week.''

''Why did they wait so long to invite you?'' Clary asked absently as she diced the peppers for his omelet. The slick of the knife as it cut so cleanly through the vegetable still made her cringe every time.

Valentine grunted. ''The unit here has accepted me as Chief of Police, but some of our sister units have yet to come to terms with Stephen Herondale's death. They are crossing their fingers for him to come back from the dead, rather than accept his replacement,'' he explained over the rim of his coffee mug. He finished the last bit and held it up for her, and she dropped the knife immediately to take it from him.

As Clary refilled it with fresh coffee, he continued, ''I've been Chief for four years now, it's about time those bastards caved.''

''It sounds like they are just sad that their friend is dead,'' Clary replied quietly.

''It's about politics, Clarissa,'' Valentine replied sharply. ''Not feelings.''

''It's been six years since mom died and you are still upset about that,'' Clary reminded him lightly as she walked around the island to place the coffee back in front of him. ''Maybe it's the same for them.''

Valentine grabbed her hand that held the coffee, and ignored her cries as the hot liquid splashed over the rim and burned her hand. She tried to pull her hand back, but he did not release her. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and she dropped the mug as he pulled his hand back to strike her.

The mug clattered noisily to the hard wood of the table and fell on its side, spilling over the surface and staining the front of her father's uniform.

He sucked a breath in with a hiss, and the fingers of his raised hand curled into a fist. The other held fast to her wrist even as her legs went weak and she fell toward the ground, hoping he would just let her fall instead of hitting her.

He held her up as his hand arched down, and pain slammed through her as his fist connected with her shoulder.

''I-I'm sorry!'' she cried, raising her free hand to protect herself, but he knocked it away and hit her again.

''We do not speak of your mother in this house!'' Valentine screamed at her, hitting her a third time.

Clary heard footsteps as Jonathon came down the stairs to join them for breakfast, and he stopped in the doorway as he watched the scene unfolding. Clary screamed as Valentine struck her a fourth and fifth time, before letting her collapse to the floor and stepping over her.

''I'm going to change my uniform,'' he said, his voice calm despite what had just happened. ''I expect my breakfast to be done by the time I return, the coffee to be cleaned, and both of you to be gone.''

Valentine disappeared up the stairs, and Jonathon stepped silently into the kitchen.

Clary looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and he turned his cold black ones to her.

''Get up.''

Clary's eyes narrowed at him, and she did not move from the floor.

He reached down and grabbed her arm, yanking her off of the floor and onto her feet. He shoved her toward the kitchen island. ''You heard him,'' he hissed at her. ''Hurry up, or we'll both get punished.''

Clary glared at him as she went back to fixing breakfast. Her hand felt like it was on fire, and her body did not feel much better. Despite her pain, she did as her father had demanded.

The front door closed after them as they left for school, just as Clary heard Valentine's footsteps on the stairs.

* * *

''Really, Clary?'' Simon demanded, his hand on the wrist of her burnt hand. He didn't bother to look around and see if anyone was listening in or watching them, and Clary felt her heart stutter nervously in her chest.

Clary ignored him, pulling her wrist free and walking away from him. But Simon followed her, crowding her, and when they passed by the girl's bathroom, in a flash he pulled her inside.

''Simon, what the hell-''

Simon ignored her, keeping his grip on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, and ducked down to check and see if the stalls were all empty. Finding that they were, he pulled her into one of them and slammed shut the door.

''I'm tired of this, Clary,'' he hissed at her, before pulling something out of his pocket. ''I'm tired of you coming to school every day with something new. I'm tired of not being able to do anything about it. I'm tired of not being able to talk to you about it. I'm just... I'm done.''

Clary felt her heart sink, watching her friend with sad eyes. ''You... You're done with me?''

Simon looked at what he'd taken from his pocket, his phone, and flipped it open. ''What?'' he asked distractedly.

''You're done with me?'' she asked, her voice shaking, and she felt tears gathering in her eyes.

Simon's head snapped up at her, his eyes wide. ''What? No, shut up. Of course I'm not,'' he said. He clicked a button on his phone. ''Take off your sweatshirt.''

Clary's eyebrows shot up to her forehead. ''What?''

''Take it off.''

Realization dawned on her face and her eyes widened, and shook her head violently at him. ''No, Simon, you can't-''

''I am going to do what I want,'' he said. ''I am going to find someone who will listen to what I have to say, and who will look at the pictures I'm going to take of you and do something about it.''

''My father has them all under his thumb, Simon,'' she told him. He ignored her, reaching for her sweater, and she brushed his hands aside and reluctantly pulled it off. ''You won't be able to do anything.''

''I have to try,'' Simon said, pulling up the camera on his phone. ''I'll go across the state, I'll go across fucking borders. I don't care how long it takes, but I will find someone.''

''Simon...''

''I'll be careful,'' Simon said, his voice softening. ''Luke has offered to help me before-''

''Luke knows?'' Clary asked in horrified whisper.

''It's obvious to anyone who knows what to look for,'' Simon told her. ''He knew your mother...''

He cut off, looking like he wanted to say more, but he chose not to. ''You should talk to him about her sometime.''

''You've talked to him about my mother?'' Clary asked him. He took her hand in his, and used his camera to document the burns across her hand and wrist. He did not answer her, just took pictures of her bruised body in silence.

He was just about the snap the last one when the door to the stall opened, having not been secured correctly in Simon's haste to pull her inside, and Isabelle Lightwood stopped immediately in the doorway when she realized it was occupied.

''I... It wasn't locked...'' Isabelle muttered, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. There was a blush to her cheeks, as if she thought something sexual was taking place, but the color blanched from them when she saw Clary's exposed skin.

Simon snapped his phone shut and slid it into his pocket. His cheeks were flushed as he looked from Isabelle to Clary, and back again. Instead of sticking around to explain, he ducked out of the stall and out of the bathroom completely, disappearing in only a matter of seconds.

''Coward,'' Clary hissed after him.

Isabelle backed out of the way as she exited the stall.

''We didn't hear anyone come in,'' Clary muttered as she slid the sweater back over her head.

Isabelle had been very talkative in class the day before, but for the first time to Clary seemed at a loss for words. ''He... What was he doing?'' she asked after a long, heavy moment of silence.

''Simon,'' Clary told her. ''He was taking pictures.''

''Oh,'' Isabelle said, her voice breathy. ''That... That's good. I hope... I hope it helps to catch the person that did that to you.''

Clary swallowed hard. ''Thank you.''

Clary started to step past her, but when Isabelle spoke again, she stopped dead in her tracks.

''Was it your brother?''

Clary spun around to face the other girl, fighting to keep her face passive as she did. ''What? Why would you ask that?''

Isabelle hesitated. ''My brother, Alec... He was walking around the campus yesterday morning to look for the football field so he knew where to go for practice, and he saw your brother push you.''

''Brothers and sisters fight all the time-''

''And Jace said he noticed a bruise on your cheek when he almost ran into you yesterday,'' Isabelle continued. ''I hadn't noticed it, but I can see he was right, I can see it now.''

Clary felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment.

''Besides,'' Isabelle said, her voice growing stronger, ''Not all the bruises just now were fresh. Bruises change color as they heal.''

Isabelle glanced over her, her expression soft. ''If I could take a guess though, it's your father that's doing it,'' she said. ''You were strong enough to go running up to Jace while he was attacking your brother, I can't imagine you wouldn't have tried to do something about being abused at home unless you couldn't actually do anything about it.''

''I liked you better when you were at a loss for words a few minutes ago,'' Clary replied, finally finding her voice.

Isabelle rolled her eyes at her, but her expression never changed.

''I don't know where you are going with this conversation,'' Clary said. ''I appreciate your concern, but I have someone that is already trying to help me.''

Isabelle glanced back toward the door. ''Samuel?''

''Simon,'' Clary corrected her, sharply.

''Cute kid,'' Isabelle commented offhandedly. She cleared her throat. ''Anyway, Simon isn't going to accomplish much on his own. He doesn't know the right people. He'll get hurt sticking his nose where it shouldn't be.''

''What's your point?'' Clary asked her cautiously.

''Chief Herondale was a good man. There are a lot of people who question how much of an accident his death really was,'' she answered. ''My family took in Jace after he died because my parents are his godparents. There are reasons we stayed in town instead of leaving after he got released from juvie.''

''You must be pretty confident in my alliances to tell me all of this,'' Clary said lowly. ''To trust I won't go running to my father.''

Isabelle shrugged. ''It's Jace that trusts you, despite the blood that runs in your veins,'' she explained. ''He asked Alec and me to approach you if we got the opportunity. I don't think he expected it to be like this though, for it to be as bad for you as it is.''

Clary frowned at her in confusion.

Isabelle sighed. ''Jace wanted us to approach you about talking to him, letting him explain what happened with Jonathon four years ago,'' she told her. ''He thought he owed you an explanation because you saved him from himself that day. When he found out about what Alec saw, and what he saw when you nearly ran into him yesterday, he decided he wanted to offer you something more instead.''

''Offer me what?'' Clary asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

''Other than an explanation?'' Isabelle said. ''He wanted to offer to save you.''

* * *

Author's Note: And the plot thickens! I am pretty happy with this chapter, and I hope you all agree. Please REVIEW :). PLEASE.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Valentine was gone by the time Clary and Jonathon returned home, left for the police conference for the week.

They both went upstairs at the same time, Jonathon to shower and change since he'd had practice that afternoon, and Clary to her room to paint.

Jonathon didn't seem to mind when she did, and she wanted to have a few done to give to Luke before Valentine returned. Luke displayed them in his store and sold them to interested customers, but he refused to take his share of the profit for handling the business for her.

She kept the money hidden under a loose board in her floor, in hopes that when she was eighteen it would be enough for her to leave.

She set up her supplies and ditched her sweater, taking care to remove the note from the pocket that she'd found stuck in her locker at the end of the school day.

_Meet me at Pandemonium at ten tonight_, the note read in a long, elegant script. She had been surprised to find it, and even more so when she saw the name signed at the end of it.

_Jace_.

She'd heard of the club from a few of the students at her school, and she looked it up in the computer lab after school to find its location. She was surprised to discover it was only a few blocks from her house, but she didn't know how she would manage to get past Jonathon to go out.

Her anxiety about sneaking out was relieved when he came into her room at the end of the night to tell her that he was going out with his friends.

''It's a school night,'' Clary reminded him, but he waved her off. They both knew that with their dad out of the house, it was their only opportunity to get a taste of freedom.

''I will call and check up on you,'' he told her as he was leaving. ''I expect you to be here.''

''Or what?'' she asked stubbornly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, his hand holding open the front door. ''Or I'll pay Simon another little visit,'' he told her, before slamming the door shut in her face.

Clary's mouth tasted bitter, and she hated that he knew her weaknesses so well. Normally, such a threat would have thwarted her, but she had looked up ways earlier around Jonathon and his overbearing rules.

Clary rushed upstairs to change, before forwarding the home phone to her cell she'd salvaged from the top drawer of the desk in Valentine's office. He knew she wouldn't dare take it when he could discover it gone at any moment, but with him out of town she was in the clear. She only prayed he didn't read all the details of the phone bill later on.

Clary put her cell in the back pocket of her jeans, and her keys in the other. After taking one last, deep breath inside her house, she closed the front door behind her as she disappeared into the night.

* * *

The walk did not take long, and Clary found herself in front of Pandemonium before she was really mentally prepared to be there. She found herself hesitating in front of the huge, looming sign, wondering what she was even doing there.

She took a step back, as if to leave, when she felt something warm touch the small of her back.

''Funny seeing you here.''

Clary's blood turned to ice in her veins as she turned to see Sebastian Verlac beside her. Her heart fell into her stomach, knowing that her mission was over before it had even really began. Wherever Sebastian was, her brother was sure to be.

He seemed to notice the horrified look on her face, because he smiled. ''I take it your brother is not aware that you are here.''

Clary swallowed hard, and, not trusting her voice, shook her head slowly.

''Alright then,'' he said. He reached down and took her hand. ''Let's go inside. He was picking up some of the others, but he is due here any minute. You would be better off in there than idling out here.''

Before she could reply, he pulled her after him as he cut to the front of the long line of people that were waiting outside of the front door. The bouncer nodded to him when he saw him, and stepped aside to let them in.

''Why did he-?''

''I'm a regular here,'' Sebastian said in explanation, though in truth, it only made her question it more. She looked around, noticing all the scantily clad women and the people dressed in blacks and leathers, and did not understand what someone like Sebastian- or her brother, for that matter- would have to do with this place on a regular basis.

He wove them expertly through the crowd of people, until they were relatively somewhere in the middle of the dance floor.

''Since we're here,'' Sebastian started, the crowd pushing him so close to Clary that she could feel his breath hot in her ear. ''Would you care to dance?''

She blinked distractedly as she recalled the last time she had been alone with Sebastian and what he had told her. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. ''I don't think I should,'' she said, feeling awkward. ''I'm here to meet someone.''

Sebastian's face grew serious. ''Oh, that Simon kid?'' he asked, his voice sour. Clary did not correct him, knowing the truth would elicit a much worse reaction. ''I don't like the way he looks at you.''

''And how does he look at me?'' she asked, her anger spiking at his tone.

Before he could answer, they both looked up when they heard his name shouted across the crowd from only a few short feet away.

Clary's eyes widened in horror, recognizing her brother's voice immediately, and Sebastian looked around nervously for some place for her to hide. He pulled her away from the voices, near the edge of the crowd by a storage closet at the back of the building.

A hand suddenly reached out from the crowd and grabbed his arm, just as another reached from the opposite direction for Clary. She swallowed a cry of surprise as she was pulled away from Sebastian and into the dark depths of the storage closet, disappearing completely from sight.

* * *

Clary opened her mouth to scream, but a hand closed over it and another wrapped around her waist as she started to struggle.

''Enough, Clarissa,'' a voice whispered in her ear from behind. She could feel the heat of a body behind her, almost feverishly warm, and it was so hot compared to her own that she thought she might melt. Beads of sweat started to break out on her forehead and chest. ''It's Jace.''

Clary bit down on his hand, and he let go of her with a cry. She tasted blood on her lips, and she spun around to face him.

She could barely make him out in the darkness, but she could see he was glaring at her even in the poor lighting. ''What the hell was that for?'' he asked her, before sucking on the side of the finger that she had bitten him on.

''You scared me,'' she hissed. ''And it's Clary.''

''Clah-rey,'' Jace said in his lazy drawl, his eyes flashing, drawing her name out slowly. ''Like the herb, clary sage.''

He looked away from her, and she saw the shadow of his arm searching for a light along the wall. He clicked his tongue in satisfaction when he found it, and switched it on.

Like he had flipped a switch in her heart as well, it started racing at the sight of him, and Clary realized that for that short expanse of time in the dark confines of the storage room she had forgotten the truth behind whom she was meeting.

Jace stood in front of her in a fitted black button-up shirt and lowly slung jeans, and despite the realization she had just come to, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander at the sight. She could see the edges of black tattoos leaking over the collar of his shirt, and it did nothing to hide how toned his abdomen was beneath it.

He shifted under her inspection, and Clary looked back up to meet his eyes with heat not only in her cheeks, but in the pit of her stomach as well. The feeling was foreign to her, and she didn't know what it meant, besides that she had the strangest urge to run her hands up under his shirt.

''I have that affect on women,'' Jace said, his gold eyes lighting in amusement as he looked at her, and Clary blanched when she realized she must have spoken out loud. His eyes flickered over her briefly, lingering on the slight mounds he could see beneath her sweatshirt. ''It is always mutual.''

Clary crossed her arms over her chest. ''If you take everything that's offered, it makes it less special,'' she remarked dryly.

''Are you offering?'' he asked her with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes at him and set her jaw, and with one last glint of amusement in his eye, he sobered.

''It would be special, you know,'' he said quietly. ''If you offered.'' He leaned against the door to the storage closet, and she realized at that moment that she was locked in the room with him, and no one knew where she was. For some reason, that thought didn't strike fear in her heart as it should have.

''And why is that?'' she asked wearily.

''Because you saved my life,'' he answered her bluntly. She pressed her lips into a fine line, and gave him a blank stare.

''If you wait for someone to save your life before you take them seriously, you are going to be left with few options,'' she replied lightly.

''Technically, it only needs to happen once,'' he quipped back. He sighed. ''I'm serious, Clary. You might not have meant to, but you saved me from not only becoming the very thing that I hate most in this world, but from suffering far worse consequences for my actions than I did.''

''Why did you do it?'' Clary asked, and then the questions started spilling out before she could stop herself. ''Was it worth it? Why are you still here? What happened to your hands? Why-?''

''Clary,'' Jace said calmly, carefully, willing her to stop. And to her surprise, she found that the rest of the questions died in her throat. ''I will answer anything. Just one at a time.''

''Why did you do it?'' she asked again, fighting to keep her voice even.

''That day, did you notice that my wrist was in a brace and I had a bandage on my forehead?'' he questioned, and Clary blinked at him in surprise. She looked away, to the ground in thought, trying to picture the boy he had been from her memory, past all of the blood and violence. She shook her head.

''My father died in a car accident,'' Jace told her. ''On a road he drove almost every day after work, to take me to and from my piano lessons. It was a nice summer night, free from wind and rain and snow. Do you see where I'm going with this?''

Clary nodded slowly. ''There isn't any reason that day would have been any different from the others. There isn't any reason he would have crashed.''

''I was in the car,'' Jace continued with a brief nod. ''I was in the hospital for a week after the accident. I don't think your father knew I was there until after.''

''My father?'' Clary questioned, her eyebrows drawing together.

''A car came up next to us on a road with a single lane- my piano instructor lived in the country- and I saw my father's face when he saw who was in it. His expression wasn't scared, or concerned. It was like he knew what was going to happen the second he saw Valentine, and Jonathon in the passenger seat,'' Jace told her quietly. He paused, swallowing the lump that had gathered in his throat. ''He looked down at me briefly, with such a sad expression, and told me that he would miss seeing me grow up. Just after, the car beside us lurched over and we rolled into the ditch...''

He trailed off momentarily, and ran a hand down his face. ''When I woke up in the hospital, they told me I'd been in an accident. I told everyone that came to see me that it wasn't an accident, but your father had already been promoted to Chief of Police in that time and they didn't take me seriously. When I was well enough, I tore off all the wires and lines, grabbed my clothes, and fled,'' he said. ''I found your address in the yellowpages and went straight over.''

''Why Jonathon?'' she asked after a moment. ''Why not go directly after my father?''

Jace laughed, but it was without humor. ''I might have been a touch out of my mind at the time, but I wasn't completely crazy,'' he replied. ''I could never have taken your father, but you brother and I were about the same size. I knew it would hurt your father all the same. I wasn't planning on you being there.''

He leaned his head back, his eyes on the ceiling, but they were distant, as if he were seeing something else entirely. ''You were a vision, in your little white sundress with your red hair all about you,'' he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. ''I never believed in anything before that day, not really, but I believe in angels now.''

Clary swallowed hard, feeling her cheeks flush.

''Just for future reference though,'' he said, turning his head to the side to look at her. ''You shouldn't run at people with knives.''

''I got the 'run _away_ from people with knives' lecture when I got home,'' Clary assured him lightly, and felt her heart jump when she saw the corner of his lip turn up.

''May I see your hands?'' he asked her suddenly, moving away from the door in one fluid moment to approach her.

Hesitantly, she put out her hands with her palms up, thinking he meant the ones he had left, but he took one of them in his own and turned it over. The burned skin was angry and red, and Jace held fast when she went to pull it away. He raised an eyebrow. ''Isabelle tells me your father did this?'' he said, making it more of a question than a statement.

''I'm sure she told you about everything else then,'' she said without answering.

He nodded briefly. ''May I see them?''

Clary sighed, before grabbing the hem of her sweatshirt and pulling it over her head. It wasn't until she set it on a box behind her and looked back to see Jace staring at her chest rather than the bruises on her arms and shoulders did she realize that she had forgotten to put on a bra before leaving the house. She'd ditched it early on when she started painting, finding it uncomfortable.

Jace cleared his throat and licked his lips, as if they were dry, and looked up to see her watching him with raised eyebrows. He gave her a brilliant, guilty smile that sobered immediately when he looked back down at her body again.

He reached forward, hesitating only when she flinched minutely away, before running his hands over her arms from her wrists to her shoulders. She shivered under the light, intimate touch, but said nothing.

His hand stopped over her shoulder, where the bruising was the worst. ''This is the newest,'' he commented. ''When?''

''This morning,'' she admitted quietly. ''With the burns.''

He sighed, and his left hand went up to brush his thumb over the bruise that was still obvious on her cheek. He took a step closer, until they were only a few inches away from each other, and where she would normally have felt crowded, she almost wished he was closer. She could feel the heat of him, radiating off of him like the sun.

He leaned down, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. She didn't move away, but found she didn't need to. He only pressed his forehead to hers, his breath warm on her face. ''I promise I will save you, Clarissa Morgenstern,'' he said quietly. ''I will make him pay for what he did to my father, and for what he is doing to you.''

''And for what he did to you, too,'' Clary found herself saying.

His eyes widened fractionally. ''You believe me, then?''

Clary began to cry, and for a long moment, she wasn't entirely sure why. Jace pulled away slightly, his expression concerned, and he brushed the tears away that fell over the brims of her eyes. She looked up into his honest, golden eyes, and said a truth from the deepest depths of her heart.

''I just need to believe in something.''

* * *

Author's Note: Long chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. I hope the scene between Clary and Jace wasn't too big of a step too early, and that it came out right. Also, trust me, we all know Clary, and she will be as much involved in saving herself as Jace will be. Keep reading, and PLEEEEEEASE REVIEW!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

''What's the plan?'' Clary asked him after a long moment of companionable silence between them. She'd stopped crying, but Jace was still a comfortable presence in front of her, his forehead once again pressed to hers.

He lifted his head to look at her. ''It's nothing for you to concern yourself with now, Clary,'' he said. ''I might need your help with a few things, but for the most part I don't want you to be involved.''

She narrowed her eyes at him. ''I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm not going to take a backseat to my own rescue.''

Jace shook his head at her, his own eyes narrowing in response to hers. ''It's too dangerous.''

Clary opened her mouth to object, but before she could, she jerked away from Jace when she felt her phone start to vibrate in her pocket. She let her breath out in a hiss when she saw that it was Jonathon. She held her finger up to Jace, and he pressed his own finger mockingly to his lips in response, flashing her a smile behind it. She flipped her phone open with a roll of her eyes.

''Hello?''

''Clary,'' her brother said, though she could barely hear him over the blare of the music in the background. The same music, of course, she could hear muted from behind the closed storage room door. ''Good. I will be home in an hour. See you then.''

The phone disconnected before she could reply, and in response to his rudeness, she mumbled a less than sisterly name for him beneath her breath.

She pocketed the phone again.

''I should probably head home,'' she told Jace, although she was reluctant to let their blossoming argument from a few moments earlier go. She would do as she pleased, even if he didn't want her involved.

''I understand,'' he said. He took something out of his pocket, a white slip of paper, and he reached forward to tuck it into the front pocket of her jeans. The slight brush of his fingers against her thigh sent a shiver rippling through her.

She caught sight of the scars on his knuckles as his hand withdrew. ''Are those from the fights you were in while you were in juvie?'' she asked him carefully.

Jace looked down wistfully at his hands for a brief moment, before tucking them into his pockets. ''No,'' he said. ''It's true that I saw my fair share of fights, but they were not the cause.''

Clary didn't push him, just drew her sweater back on over her head and waited patiently for him to continue.

After a long moment, he spoke again. ''A few days after my admittance into juvie, a few of the other boys cornered me in the cafeteria and used their trays to crush my hands,'' he told her, his voice wavering slightly.

''Unlike being witness to my father's murder, I can only speculate on what happened,'' he continued. ''But as I ruined Jonathon's football career, I expect it was not a coincidence that mine as a concert pianist was ruined as well.''

''You think my father is behind what happened?'' she asked, though she knew the answer already.

''The boys that attacked me were released a few days later, years before they were originally meant to, and not because of overflow like I was,'' he said. ''One of the few people with power to do something like that is the Chief of Police.''

''He bribed them...''

The silence hung heavy between them, and Jace backed away from her and went to the door. He flipped the lock, and put his hand on the knob. ''Well, I suppose you should be getting back-''

''You are still really good,'' Clary stated, interrupting him.

Jace blinked at her. ''What?''

''On the piano.''

Jace's brow furrowed for a moment, before realization dawned on his face. ''That was you then. Yesterday.''

Clary nodded. With a smile, she added, ''I saw your little fit.''

Jace had the decency to flash her an embarrassed smile. ''Not my best moment,'' he admitted with a smirk. ''I was just-''

Before he could finish his sentence, the door was pushed open and Jace backtracked quickly to keep from getting slammed in the face by the door. He managed to duck behind it without being seen by the intruder.

Clary's eyes widened when she saw Sebastian standing in the doorway, but relaxed slightly when she noticed that Jonathon was not with him.

''Clary?'' he asked, seeing her standing in the room alone. ''I was wondering where you'd gone. What are you doing in here?''

Clary made sure not to look in Jace's direction, but she saw him blanch in response to the sound of Sebastian's voice.

''Simon just left,'' she explained. ''I was just about to head home.''

''I am too,'' he said. He jerked his chin to the side, motioning for her to follow him. ''Come on, I'll give you a ride.''

''That's alright,'' she said tightly. She didn't like the idea of being stuck in a car with Sebastian and potentially having to respond to what he'd said to her earlier. In truth, she hadn't thought about it at all, and she didn't know what she would even say. ''I can walk. It's only a few blocks away.''

''Really, Clary?'' he said, raising an eyebrow. ''Like I want you walking the streets of New York at this time of night?''

Reluctantly, she nodded, knowing he was unlikely to let it go and would probably tell her brother she was at Pandemonium if she refused. He flashed her a brilliant smile, and with a final glance at Jace after Sebastian had turned his back, Clary followed him out the door.

* * *

Clary pretended to be asleep during the short car ride back, and though Sebastian tried to stop her after he pulled up in front of her house, she slipped out the door and pretended not to hear his protest. She quickly thanked him for giving her a ride, and shouted goodbye as she ghosted across her lawn and into the house.

Once inside, her back hit the door and she sank down to sit on the cool tile, sighing heavily. She felt bad for being so rude to Sebastian, but she had enough on her plate without him making it more complicated. There was still something off about him that she couldn't identify, and she didn't have the time to sort it out.

It had been a long night, and after a brief moment, she picked herself up again and dragged herself up the stairs. She ditched her clothes on the floor, pulling the slip of paper Jace had given her out of her pocket as she did.

She crawled into bed, and held the paper up until it caught the moonlight that was streaming in from her window.

She frowned, not understanding the writing on the paper. Though it was clearly an address, she wasn't sure what it was for or where it would lead.

With a frustrated sigh, she slipped it into the top drawer of her dresser and went to sleep.

* * *

She woke up an hour later to the sound of a small crash coming from downstairs, and hesitantly, Clary got up and pulled open the door of her room. She heard a male voice, speaking quietly, and a feminine laugh that sounded a little less than sober.

''Come on Clary-'' she heard her brother say, and the girl made an irritated noise.

''My name is Amber,'' she corrected him, her words slurring slightly.

''Right... My apologies...''

Clary heard their footsteps on the stairs, and quickly backtracked until she was hidden behind her door, the wood opened less than an inch from the frame. She watched as her brother walked past her door with a strange girl in tow, and Clary frowned when she got a decent look at her.

Though her hair was obviously not natural, it was such a vibrant shade of red that it rivaled Clary's own. She couldn't see many details beyond that, but she was short and slight and had fair skin like her own.

Clary narrowed her eyes in confusion when Jonathon took her into his room and locked the door, knowing full well what he intended to do with her inside.

_He called her Clary..._

Clary felt bile rise in her throat, but swallowed it back down and shook her head. She must have heard wrong in her state of exhaustion. She shut her door and went to bed, but even as she laid back down against the soft sheets of her bed, she could not shake her unease.

She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

''Well, you look like hell.''

Clary glared at Simon as they sat against the back wall of the school during lunch, where there was no one around to see them. Jonathon had gone off campus with Sebastian and a few of his other teammates to eat since they were seniors, and Clary took the opportunity to eat with her friend.

''I had a bad dream,'' Clary lied. ''I didn't get any sleep after.''

She wasn't entirely sure though that it _was_ a lie.

When Clary had woken, there'd been no signs of the girl she'd thought she'd seen Jonathon bring home the night before, and he said nothing to her as they got ready in the morning. She wasn't sure the girl had really been there at all.

Simon opened his mouth to comment, but he caught sight of something over her shoulder that made all of the color drain from his face.

''Clary...''

Clary heard someone settle onto the grass beside her, and she looked over to find Jace leaning up against the wall with the remnants of a cigarette protruding from his mouth.

He looked past Clary to meet Simon's saucer eyes, and wiggled his eyebrows at him as he took a final drag from the cigarette and put out the butt against the side of the building.

''I take it you didn't mention to your boyfriend here our newly founded alliance?'' Jace asked, turning away from Clary to blow the smoke out from his mouth, and there was an edge to his voice that was not lost to Clary.

Clary said ''He's not my boyfriend'' at the same time that Simon remarked ''No, she didn't''. They exchanged a look, and Jace raised an eyebrow at them. He let it go without a comment, looking slightly pleased.

''I told you about Isabelle,'' Clary told Simon. ''We haven't gotten a chance to talk more than that.''

''You had a phone last night,'' Jace said with a frown. ''You couldn't have called him with it?'' She realized he was genuinely curious, and hadn't asked it as an accusation.

''Valentine checks the details of the bill sometimes,'' Simon explained to Jace with a grimace. He looked to Clary. ''When did you get your phone back? I thought he took it away when he caught you texting me at the beginning of summer?''

Clary pressed her lips into a tight line. ''I took it last night when I went to meet Jace,'' she told him. ''I already put it back in his office.''

''I was afraid of something like that, so-'' Jace started, reaching for something in his pocket, but Simon interrupted him.

Simon turned to glare at Jace. ''What a good ally you are. You have her sneaking out and around to meet you, knowing full well what could happen if she gets caught.''

Jace's eyes narrowed at him. ''How do you suggest we meet then?'' Jace asked him. ''It's not as if I could go up and ring her doorbell with father and brother dearests there.''

Simon glowered, but did not reply.

''As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,'' Jace continued, pulling his hand out of his pocket with something clasped between his fingers. He held it out to Clary, and she hesitantly took it from him. ''I got you a phone so that I can get in contact with you when I need to.''

''Like a call girl,'' Simon quipped darkly.

''You ought to be a little nicer to someone you know has a history of violent behavior,'' Jace snapped, but the threat behind the words was lacking. ''Besides, it has unlimited minutes and texting, so she can keep in touch with you as well.''

Simon's mouth fell open for one long, shocked moment before he slowly pulled it closed again. ''Oh... Thank you.''

Jace smirked.

Clary looked him over, and noticing his empty hands, held her lunch out to him. ''Hungry?''

He eyed the assortment of foods on the paper bag she'd torn to use as a makeshift plate. ''Fries?'' he questioned, picking a few of the sticks from her lunch.

He popped them into his mouth before she could explain that they were apple sticks. He made a face at her when he came to the realization himself, but didn't complain.

Simon made a face of his own, at them sharing her lunch, but he kept his opinions to himself as well.

''How do we do this?'' Clary asked after a long moment. ''How do we even start?''

Jace shrugged his shoulders. ''If you don't mind, I think a good place to start would be your house while your father is away. Is there any room where you aren't allowed, where he might keep papers or files that he doesn't want anyone to see?''

Clary thought about it for a long moment, and when it finally came to her, she realized how stupid she was to have forgotten. ''The basement.''

''Have you ever been down there?'' Jace asked her, his interest lighting

Clary nodded hesitantly, thinking back to when she was a child. ''I was eight. It was always locked, but one day I saw that the door was open and I could hear my mother crying from all the way at the top of the stairs,'' she said quietly. ''I was only able to take a few steps down, because my father came home at that moment and caught me. When he saw that my mother was down there, he tossed me out and locked them both away for hours.''

''Did you see anything?'' Jace asked her, leaning toward her intently.

''A lot of file cabinets, boxes, and papers everywhere.''

Jace smiled wickedly. ''That seems like the perfect place to start.''

Clary frowned. ''But it's locked.''

''Don't worry,'' he said assuredly, reaching forward to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ''I know people that can fix that.''

* * *

Author's Note: REVIEW PLEEEEEASE.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

''He is mental. Absolutely mental.''

''Simon,'' Clary warned, leaning up against the side of the bar they were stalled behind. A breeze swept through the night, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her.

Simon sighed, moving closer to her to rub his hands up and down her arms to warm her. ''We shouldn't be here,'' he said to her, looking over her shoulder at the bar. The sound of rowdy, drunk men could be heard even from where they were standing.

''I trust him, Simon,'' she said. ''I don't understand why I do, considering how I've felt toward him all these years, but I do.''

''He better hurry up,'' was all he said in reply.

Clary saw a shadowed figure emerge into one end of the alley, and she silently hoped that it was Jace. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to leave, but she wasn't about to leave him behind just because she was a little scared. He'd brought them to a part of town she was unfamiliar with to meet with someone about getting into the locked basement. It was something that should have taken only a few minutes, but he'd been gone a good half hour.

The figure in the mouth of the alley stumbled drunkenly and knocked a few bags of garbage down that had been stacked against the wall, and at that moment she knew it wasn't Jace.

Her hand clenched around the sleeve of Simon's sweatshirt, and she started to pull him in the opposite direction the stranger was coming. They stopped again when someone emerged into the alley from that direction as well.

''I don't like this...'' Simon breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Clary's heart fell to her stomach, and a wave of dread washed over her. She just nodded her head in silent agreement, her grip tightening on Simon's arm.

The strangers reached them at the same time and greeted each other casually. It could have passed as two friends randomly running into each other on the street, but to Clary it felt like an act. She tasted bile on her tongue.

After the two strangers shared a laugh, one of them turned toward Simon and Clary. He sized Simon up briefly, before looking lazily over Clary.

''Hey there, little girl,'' he drawled, moving so close to them that Clary could smell the alcohol on his breath. ''Why don't you ditch this nerd and come party with some real men?'' He motioned behind him to his friend, and the other man waved at her with a wicked smile.

''She'll pass,'' Simon said, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders. He made the mistake of taking a step back, a sign of weakness, and the guy noticed it with a malicious grin.

His hand jutted forward, locking around Clary's wrist. ''Come on, it'll be fun,'' he said, starting to pull her away from Simon. Clary tried to pull back, but he was unyielding.

Simon grabbed his wrist to try to break his grip, but the guy took a handful of his sweatshirt with his free hand and shoved him away.

Simon's hold on her broke, and his back hit the wall. His glasses tumbled to the ground along with him, and breathless, he fumbled for them.

The men laughed, and it sounded deafeningly loud to Clary's ears. She raised her free hand to hit the man holding her, to get him to release her, but he grabbed it before she could.

He held her in place as the other man approached, and Clary swallowed hard as he reached up and ran a hand intimately through her hair. ''This one should be fun,'' he breathed. ''Redheads are always fun.''

He leaned toward her, and Clary turned her head away. She cried out as his teeth nibbled at her earlobe. He was too close, and his breath was too hot. He turned her face to kiss her, but he was jerked back and away from her before he could manage it.

''I'm sorry to disappoint, gentlemen,'' came a voice from the shadows. ''But Red here is with me.''

Jace stepped forward, releasing the man as he did, and he didn't watch as the man stumbled and fell to the alley floor a few feet away, his eyes all for Clary. He approached the other man, who was still holding her. ''You mind removing your hands from her? I would hate to have to do it for you. You won't like it much.''

Despite his calm tone, the words were heavy with threat, and Clary felt a ripple of fear run through her.

The guy released one of her hands to reach into his pocket, and when he pulled it out again, he let the light from the street reflect off of the blade of the knife in his hand.

Jace didn't even glance at it.

''You can leave now,'' the man said. ''Before this gets ugly.''

Jace smiled, and it was not friendly. ''If you didn't want it to be ugly, you would've worn a bag over your head.''

''Jace,'' Clary warned, her voice trembling slightly.

Jace's eyes flickered over to her. She pleaded with him with her eyes to be nice, and after a long moment between them, he gave the barest of nods and looked back to the man. ''Nothing has to happen here,'' he said, holding up his hands innocently. ''I don't want to have to hurt you. I just want the girl.''

''I get the girl,'' the guy replied, his tone mocking. ''I have the _knife_.''

Jace put his arms down impatiently, barely hiding the roll of his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, and he shifted anxiously to the side. The movement allowed Clary to see past him, to the other man creeping up behind him.

She saw the gleam of metal in his hand.

''Jace!'' she cried. ''Behind you!''

Jace turned just as the man lunged, and Clary heard the tear of the knife as it passed through Jace's leather jacket and shirt. He cursed as he tried his best to dodge the blow, and he brought his elbow up to slam into the man's face as his momentum took him off balance. The man recovered quickly, swinging his fist as Jace.

The man holding Clary lost his grip on her wrist in his surprise, and he moved to join the fight. She acted without thinking, bringing her leg up and kicking him in the small of his back as he ran past her.

He hit the alley floor, his face slamming into the asphalt with a crack, but it was not enough to down him. Clary froze as he stood up and turned towards her, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, his face flushed in anger.

Just as he lunged at her, the knife still clutched in his fist, a board came out of nowhere and smacked him across the face.

He was out on his feet, and he fell lifelessly into a heap of garbage bags and did not rise again.

Clary turned to look at Simon just as he dropped the board back onto the ground, and she flashed him a grateful smile. He smiled back as he adjusted his glasses on his nose, but both of them sobered when a cry sounded from the fight a few feet away.

Jace kicked the guy back until he slammed against the wall of the bar, and barely jumped away in time as the knife came at him in a deadly horizontal arch. He didn't miss the blow completely, and it tore across his chest.

To Clary's surprise, he barely flinched, and he managed to grab the wrist with the knife and twist until the guy screamed and released it. It clattered noisily onto the asphalt at their feet.

''Clary,'' Jace said breathlessly. ''Grab... the knife.''

Clary fell to her knees on the ground and scrambled for it, grabbing it up just before the guy went for it himself. She met eyes with him just as Simon grabbed the back of her sweater, and he ripped her back just in time to avoid the guy's hand, reaching for her.

Jace kicked him one last time, solidly in the back of the head, and he went limp against the asphalt. He moved back from the guy, standing at his full height, looking calm despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He dragged the back of his wrist across his mouth, and it came away red.

Simon watched him with wide eyes, but anything he might have thought to say was caught in his throat.

Jace stepped over the man on the ground and approached them both. ''I'm so sorry, Clary,'' he said. ''I shouldn't have brought you here. I didn't think it would take as long as it did...''

''Did... Did you find the guy you were looking for?'' she asked him, her eyes still wide in shock.

''He did.''

Clary and Simon jerked around at the sound of the voice behind them, having not heard anyone approach. Simon's eyes grew so wide Clary feared they might fall out of his head completely.

A young man stood before them, dressed in the tightest pair of leather pants Clary had ever seen and a shirt so eccentric that it hurt her eyes to look at it. His skin was a beautiful caramel, and his hair was so black it looked blue in the light.

''Clary, Simon,'' Jace introduced. ''This is Magnus Bane.''

* * *

''So... You guys met in juvie?'' Simon asked over his cup of coffee. They were all sitting in the kitchen at Clary's house, and after getting over his initial shock of being in her house for the first time ever, he wanted to get straight down to business. Despite the fact that Jonathon was staying at Sebastian's for the night, they didn't want to linger too long in case he decided to come home.

Clary had called Sebastian and asked him to give her a heads up if her brother wasn't going to stay. Since he'd helped her while she was at Pandemonium, she hoped he would not mind doing so again.

He had happily agreed.

When Jace found out about their sordid alliance, he hadn't been happy, but he'd brushed her off when she tried to ask why.

''Yeah,'' Jace explained. ''Magnus had a habit of acquiring things without paying for them. He was let out due to overflow, like me.''

''No, that was the first time I was in juvie with you,'' Magnus corrected him from his position by the basement door, which was situated just past the entrance into the kitchen. ''Remember? I left for a few weeks.''

Jace snorted. ''Right, the police car incident...''

''Police car incident?'' Clary asked from the pantry. She was searching for the first aid kit, and once she found it, she took it from the top shelf and re-emerged into the kitchen.

Magnus's hands stilled. He looked over his shoulder at her. ''I don't see why they were so upset,'' he said. ''Their cars were so boring, so I glammed them up a bit.''

''By glammed them up,'' Jace explained. ''He means covered them in glitter.''

Simon choked on his coffee. Clary smiled and threw a towel at Simon to clean up the mess he'd made of himself.

''What's taking so long?'' Simon asked Magnus once he'd composed himself again.

''I don't want to scratch the metal,'' he explained. ''Or it will be obvious that we were here.''

Clary set the first aid kit next to Jace on the table, and moved a chair to sit in front of him.

''Clary-'' he started to protest, but when she ignored him and started to pull his clothes off herself, he brushed her hands away with a sigh. ''No need to get handsy. At least, not in front of the children.''

Clary rolled her eyes at him. Jace smirked as he shrugged out of his jacket, and he hung it over the back of his chair. Clary couldn't help but let her eyes wander as his hands gripped the edge of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

She could feel her heart pounding violently against her chest as her eyes swept over the fine expanse of his chest. Her eyes rode the ridge between his pecks down, over the rolling hills of his abs, to follow the fine trail of golden hair that disappeared into the front of his jeans.

She heard someone clear their throat, and thinking it was Jace, she quickly looked up to meet his eyes. She expected him to make a comment, or to make fun of her in some way. But he was watching her face with such intensity that a wave of heat warmed through her body, and his chest was rising and falling faster than it had been a few moments before.

Simon cleared his throat, for the second time, and Clary fumbled for the first aid kit, forcing her mind back to business.

The gash across his chest was shallow, and it only took a few alcohol swabs to clean it before she taped an expanse of gauze over it. The wound on his side was deeper and still seeping blood when she got to it, and she felt Jace flinch when she applied the first swab to it.

She mumbled an apology, and carefully finished bandaging it. When she smoothed the last of the bandage in place, she could feel how tense his body was beneath her fingers.

''Does it hurt?'' she asked him. She stood up quickly. ''I can get you some ibuprofen or acetaminophen-''

''Enough, Clary,'' he said sharply, catching her hand and guiding her back down to her seat in front of him. When he saw her eyes widen and glaze over with tears, he continued, his tone softer. ''You have been running around getting things for everyone and taking care of everyone else. Just sit down and relax for a moment.''

''But-''

He gave her a firm look, and her protest died in her throat. He stood up from his chair, drawing his shirt over his head as he did, and reached down to rustle her hair. ''What do you want to drink? You never got anything for yourself. I can make something for you to eat also, if you are hungry.''

Clary just stared up at him, blinking slowly.

''What?'' he asked her, confused by her blank expression.

''I don't think anyone has ever offered to do anything for her before,'' Simon said quietly. ''Valentine always has her waiting on him and Jonathon hand and foot.''

Clary shook her head, snapping out of it. ''I... I'm fine,'' she said in a whisper. ''Thank you.''

Jace ignored her, crossing the floor to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He returned to her and set it in front of her. ''Drink it.''

She glared up at him, and he met her gaze evenly.

After a long moment and an irritated sigh, she folded, grabbing the water and taking a sip.

He flashed her a satisfied smile.

The doorbell rang suddenly, the harshness of the sound making all of them jump. Clary jerked out of her seat. ''Jonathon-''

Jace grabbed her hand and guided her back down to her seat again. ''It's not Jonathon,'' he said assuredly. ''I called some people over to help go through the basement with us.''

He gave her hand a squeeze and went to open the door.

Isabelle and Alec strode inside, with Jace trailing behind them.

Magnus looked up when they entered, and when his eyes swept over Alec, the tools dropped from his hands.

''Well, hello there...''

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. PLEASE REVIEW!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Once Jace managed to pry Magnus off of Alec and direct him back to business, it was only a short while before he managed to force the lock open.

''What do we owe you for working your magic, Magnus?'' Isabelle asked him after he stepped back to admire his work.

The door was opened to reveal the black abyss of the basement, and Clary swallowed nervously at the thought of what might be down there.

''My usual fee would be much too high for you lot,'' Magnus said, sinking down into a chair and crossing his legs. He pretended to looked bored and picked at his nails, before he moved his eyes slyly to the side to look at Alec. ''However, I might just settle for a date from blue eyes over there as payment.''

Alec blanched, and Clary saw him dart a look to Jace. Unlike Simon, who was openly gaping, Jace seemed less than surprised by Magnus's implication about Alec's sexual preferences. He noticed Alec's look, and gave him a shrug.

Clary couldn't help but notice the flash of disappointment in his eyes, and she realized then that Alec had been hoping that Jace would object. Not as a friend, but out of jealousy, as an interested party.

He looked back at Magnus, who was now out of his seat and gathering up his tools, and swallowed hard. When the eccentric man looked up at him again, Alec gave him a sharp nod of agreement.

Magnus beamed. ''A man of few words. Seeing as I am a man of many, this will be a beautiful union...''

''It's only one date,'' Alec reminded him, but there was no bite behind the words.

''You would be surprised how quickly one date can turn into two, or three, or marriage,'' Magnus said distractedly as he finished collecting his tools and picked up his bag. With a wave and a kiss blown to Alec, he disappeared out the front door in a manner of seconds.

''He didn't even get my number...'' Alec said quietly, his lips pressing into a tight line.

Jace snorted. ''Magnus is a man of many talents. If he didn't already manage to get it with those tricky hands of his, he will find a way to get ahold of you.''

Alec looked relieved, and Clary's heart thrummed for him. She barely knew him, but it was obvious that he struggled with his sexuality. She couldn't help but feel happy for the small victory.

Clary was pulled out of her thoughts when a hand clasped around hers, and she blinked up at Jace. She looked over just in time to see Alec glance in their direction, his eyes averted to their hands, and though for a moment she saw a flash of jealousy in his eyes, it faltered when he looked back toward the direction Magnus had disappeared.

Jace gave her fingers a squeeze, drawing her attention back to him.

''Are you ready, Clary?''

* * *

''So, does Magnus go to our high school?'' Simon asked over the stack of papers he held in his hand. He was leaning against the wall a few feet from Isabelle, and despite his best efforts to focus, he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to her each time she would lean over to pull a file out of one of the file cabinet drawers.

Jace shook his head, gingerly setting down a piece of paper when it turned up nothing. Their progress was slow, too slow, as they had to be careful not to move a single thing out of place as they searched through the lot of cabinets and boxes and papers that were spread throughout the room.

So far, they hadn't managed to find anything of interest. Mostly police files and old bills. The only thing of interest they had come upon were some love letters from his secretary at the station.

''No, he doesn't go to school at all,'' Jace explained. ''He tried to go back between juvie visits, but the kids there terrorized him so badly for being gay that he swore never to go back again.''

Alec looked up, frowning. ''He doesn't seem like the kind of person that would let other people get to him.''

Jace shrugged. ''When you are getting beaten up on a daily basis, it's hard not to let that have some impact,'' he commented. ''It wasn't much better in juvie, though.''

Isabelle popped her head up from the file cabinet drawer she had currently been digging in. ''Poor Magnus,'' she said somberly.

''Poor Magnus?'' Jace snorted. ''Try poor me. You want to know why I got into so many fights in juvie? I was keeping his flamboyant ass out of trouble.''

''I figured it was just because you're a dick,'' Isabelle responded dryly.

Simon reached a hand up to high five her. Jace rolled his eyes when she leaned over to smack hands with him. For a moment Simon beamed, before he sobered somewhat and raised an eyebrow at Jace. ''You would think he would have been going after you then, not Alec, if you were such a knight in shining armor for him.''

Jace frowned. ''Why would he? I'm straight.''

Simon shook his head. ''Sometimes it doesn't matter if a person is unattainable, or unavailable. You feel what you feel anyway...'' Simon said quietly, swallowing hard, and Jace noticed his eyes glance over at Clary. She had her back to them, and she was elbow deep in the papers on the desk that was situated at the back of the room, completely oblivious to the conversation.

Jace raised an eyebrow, but it fell when a realization dawned on him. ''Oh, right! He did explain why he would never look at me like that,'' Jace exclaimed. ''I completely forgot. Something about me reminding him too much of an ex boyfriend. Will... William... Something or other. He said it would be too weird.''

Simon opened his mouth to comment, but Clary made a strangled noise from across the room and everyone immediately turned toward the sound.

''Clary?'' he asked.

Simon started to get up, but Jace was already there, his hand sliding over the small of her back as he looked over her shoulder at what she had clasped in her hands.

''I don't understand,'' he said after a long moment of tense silence, taking the photos from her.

She shook her head, her eyes wide. ''It's not... It doesn't matter... It's not relevant to our investigation...''

''Clary,'' Jace breathed, his voice concerned, and she looked up at him in confusion. He reached his fingers up to brush away the tears she hadn't realized had fallen down her cheeks.

Simon, upon seeing that she was crying, was across the room in a second. Jace turned the photos toward him as he approached, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead.

''That's Jocelyn, Clary's mom...'' he said, reaching for the pictures. ''Who is that she's with? It's not Valentine...''

''Luke,'' Clary said in a whisper. ''It's Luke.''

Simon seemed to have come to the same conclusion, as his mouth had fallen open the further he flipped through the photos. They were extremely explicit, and he saw more of the bookstore owner than he'd ever cared to.

''She had an affair,'' Clary breathed. ''She had an affair. That's why he's always so angry about her.''

Simon brushed a hand through her hair, wanting to comfort her, and Jace gave him the space to do so, albeit reluctantly.

As he stepped back he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and pulled a folded sheet of paper out of the same drawer the photos had come from, flipping it open as he did. His jaw tightened the further he read, and his expression was unhappy.

''We aren't going to find anything down here,'' he said with finality, folding the letter back up.

Clary frowned up at him, and he couldn't help but soften his expression as she met his eyes and he saw that tears were still leaking down her face. He didn't need to ask why. Her father's controlling behavior, his open resentment toward her mother and his violence toward Clary all made sense now. Not that they were justified, but she had a reason now behind it all, based on the ugly truth she had just found out about her mother.

''Why do you say that?'' Isabelle asked Jace, though her eyes were all for Clary, her expression sympathetic.

He waved the letter in his hand. ''Clary's mother was leaving him. She said she had evidence stashed away that would prove he was planning a murder, and she would hand it over to him if he let her go in peace,'' he explained.

Clary held her hand out, and he set the letter in her palm, albeit hesitantly.

''You don't want to read it, Clary,'' he said gently, but she ignored him and unfolded it. Two lines in she folded it up and handed it back to Jace without saying a word, but her hand was trembling violently.

''She'd found evidence once, he'd be too smart to keep anything else down here,'' Jace said. ''I think he just kept it locked to keep Clary and Jonathon from finding out about the affair.''

''Do you think...'' Clary started, her eyes still on the letter in Jace's hands. ''She was so scared... Do you think he killed her?''

Jace's eyes widened briefly in surprise, before his expression sobered. ''I... I don't know, Clary...'' he said, his voice so soft she barely even heard him. He reached up to run the backs of his fingers over her cheek, but a voice sounding across the room stopped him.

''Wait,'' Alec said, his eyebrows furrowed. ''Who was he planning to murder?''

Jace swallowed hard, his expression unreadable. His hand fell back to his side, and he pressed his lips into a tight line, remaining silent for a long moment. His eyes flashed in the dim light of the basement when he finally brought himself to answer.

''My father.''

* * *

''So... He meant to kill your father years ago,'' Isabelle said, after a long, tense silence. ''But if Jocelyn died before she could blackmail him, then why didn't he just do it?''

Jace shrugged. ''I don't know...''

Clary's eyes lit as the answer came to her. ''Maybe he didn't recover the evidence from her.''

Jace turned his golden eyes to her. ''What do you mean?''

''Maybe she hid it so that he couldn't get his hands on it,'' she said carefully. ''He probably didn't have any idea where it was hidden, or it was somewhere he couldn't recover it. Maybe he wanted to wait to do it in case it surfaced, in case she left it with someone and they turned it in after she died.''

''It's a stretch,'' Jace said after a long moment of consideration. ''But it does seem the most likely explanation.''

They all jumped when the phone rang from upstairs, the sound cutting almost violently through the air, and Clary rushed to get it. Once she pulled it off of the receiver, she saw Jace emerge from the basement after her.

''Hello?''

''Clary, it's Sebastian.''

Clary's eyes widened in alarm. ''Is he-''

''He just left. You have about ten minutes before he will be there,'' Sebastian told her, his voice low. ''He didn't like the idea of you sleeping at home with no one there.''

Clary rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn't see her do it. On the surface Jonathon could seem like a good brother, but despite a few moments they shared between them, Clary felt little more than nothing for him. He had been an accomplice to her abuse since before she could even remember, and knowing now that he was an accomplice to murder did nothing to soften her heart toward him.

''I'm a big girl,'' she said. ''I don't need him to watch over me.''

''I know you are,'' Sebastian replied, his tone changing. ''That's why I told you what I did the other day, Clary. I wanted you to know-''

''Sebastian,'' she said, softly interrupting him. ''I appreciate what you said, and whatever feelings it is that you have toward me, but...''

There was a heavy silence after she trailed off, before he said, ''But you are not interested.'' There was an edge to his tone that could have passed as hurt, but it felt somewhat off to Clary.

''It's not that, Sebastian,'' she said quickly. ''I just have a lot going on right now, too much to think about things like that.''

He sighed, and it sounded relieved. ''Alright,'' he said. ''We can talk about it again when you are ready. But I've waited for years to approach you Clary, I don't want to wait much longer.''

The statement sounded oddly like a threat, but Clary brushed it off. ''Thank you for calling and warning me, Sebastian.''

''You're welcome.''

Clary hung up the phone, and found Jace glaring daggers at her, the muscles in his jaw tense.

''What?'' she asked him.

He just shook his head and turned away, starting back toward the basement, but she caught his wrist to stop him.

He moved so fast her eyes barely registered the movement. One moment she was standing in the middle of the floor of the kitchen, and the next she found herself pressed up against the kitchen island, the granite digging into the small of her back.

She felt it only distantly, as she became aware of Jace's lower body pressed along the length of hers, one hand clasped around the wrist of the hand she'd grabbed him with and the other on her hip, holding her in place.

''Jace-''

He jerked back from her, instantly releasing her. ''I'm sorry,'' he said quickly, and despite his bad mood, he seemed genuinely sorry. ''If I hurt you. I just... I don't like when people touch me when I'm not expecting it.''

''Oh,'' she said, understanding instantly. She was sure, considering his tendency for fighting during his time is juvie, that he'd been attacked more than once when his back was turned.

He started away again, but when Clary called after him, careful to keep her hands to herself, he stopped. ''I'll forgive you if you tell me what it is that bothers you so much about Sebastian.''

Jace's eyes narrowed at her, and she felt instantly bad for manipulating him into an answer. She was about to open her mouth to tell him he didn't need to answer when he stepped up to her again and brushed his scarred knuckles over her cheek.

''Remember what I told you, about how I got these scars?'' he asked her.

She nodded absently, too aware of the way his body fit against hers. He seemed to notice her distraction, and for a moment let the story go, watching her face intently as he slowly let his body rest more heavily against her. The pressure on her back grew as she was pressed against it, but she didn't mind. He rested his hands against island, entrapping her. She felt a tremor run through her, and it was not of fear.

''Jace...''

Their chests were both rising and falling faster now, and Clary could feel just how much Jace liked being so close to her. It was the first time she had been so close to a boy, feeling such a thing, and where she thought she might be scared, there were other things too. Curiosity, mostly, but also anticipation.

Clary was just reaching her hand up to finger one of the buttons on his shirt when her brain chose that most inconvenient moment to start working again and process what he had said before.

''Sebastian was one of the guys that broke your hands?''

Jace made an unhappy noise in his throat and moved his body away from her, the moment from before broken. He kept his hands on the counter at her sides, and he lowered his head, sighing in frustration.

Clary mentally kicked herself, and had to force herself to not reach for him when he pushed off from the island and ran a hand through his hair. She saw for the first time that his cheeks were as flushed as her own, but his grave expression kept her from commenting on it.

''He was,'' he answered her once he had composed himself.

''I didn't know he'd even been in juvie,'' she replied.

''I didn't expect you would,'' he replied. ''I'm sure Valentine had his record expunged. How long has he been friends with your brother?''

Clary thought back, and she felt her stomach turn when she came upon the answer. ''Four years,'' she said. ''They met a week or two after you attacked Jonathon.''

Jace nodded absently. He met her eyes, and his expression was soft. ''I know I have no right to tell you what to do,'' he said carefully. ''But I would request that you stay away from him as much as possible.''

Clary pressed her lips into a tight line and nodded.

''Also,'' he continued, his face dropping its seriousness and his eyes lighting as he looked upon her. He stepped up to her again, but this time he did not let his body touch hers. Her mouth went dry as she stared up at him, surprised by his sudden change in mood, and he reached forward to run a hand through her wild red curls. ''Whatever that was a moment ago, I'd like to request that happen again.''

Her cheeks flushed as he stepped back away from her, putting distance between them, and a teasing smirk twisted up the corner of his lip. ''Another time though,'' he continued. ''Your brother will be home in a few minutes, and every single thing I want to do with you would take much more time than that.''

Even if she'd had a reply and managed to get it past her heart in her throat to say it, he would not have been around to hear it. He disappeared into the basement to fetch the others without another word or look to her, and within only a few short moments, everyone but Clary left and dispersed out into the night.

* * *

Author's Note: So, just a reminder, this fanfiction is rated M for a reason. There will be sexy times, though not overly explicit ones. I will try my best to ''stay classy'' about it. I just don't want to get any reviews from people in the future freaking out when there is mature content. Anyway, other than that, I just wanted to say that I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Keep READING, and of course, REVIEWING!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Clary knew she needed to go see Luke, but for some reason, she found she could not bear to do it. Over the next few days, she made every excuse imaginable to herself to delay her visit to the bookstore.

Jace didn't push her to go see him, despite the rather significant probability that he would be the person that her mother left the evidence with, if she left it with anyone at all.

She didn't see him much either, despite her rather prominent desire to. She found she would lie awake some nights wishing that the phone he had given her would ring or he would climb through her window like she saw boys do in the movies to be with her.

The only reason Clary was grateful for his distance was because Valentine ended up coming back early from his trip, and fortunately for her and Jonathon, they were both sitting at home watching a movie together when he did.

He'd been in an especially bad mood upon his return, and they had dispersed immediately, neither of them wanting to be an outlet for his anger. But when Valentine discovered traces of her painting in her room, as she hadn't planned on him being home and cleaned everything up, he'd dragged her out by her hair and beaten her with his belt in the middle of the hallway.

Despite her instinct to go join her brother in his room afterward, her unease from the night after Pandemonium persisted, and she cried herself to sleep in the comfort of her own bed.

When Jace saw her at school the next morning, the last day of school before the weekend, he'd disappeared for a few minutes and, upon his return, pulled her into a utility closet without a single word and locked it behind them.

''Jace...''

He ignored her protest, his fingers lightly brushing over the welt he could see just behind her ear. He hooked them into the collar of her sweatshirt, pulling it aside to see the angry red marks spanning down her back.

He seemed angry, but his hands on her did not strike fear in her, like her father's or brother's did. He did not bother to gain her cooperation, just gathered the material of her sweatshirt in his fists and pulled it over her head.

''Jace,'' she said again, more forcibly, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

''I gave you my address for a reason,'' he said, his fingers closing around the hem of her shirt. ''I wanted you to use it when things like this happened.''

She flushed, spreading her hands over her shirt to keep it in place, but Jace brushed them aside and forced the thin camisole off over her head.

He didn't even pause at the sight of her standing in front of him in nothing but her green lace bra, and turned her around to face the water pipes that lined the walls of the utility room, his hands brushing down the length of her back.

She heard him pull out something from his pocket, and a few seconds later, he smoothed his hands over her back again, this time with a thick salve coating his fingers.

When the cold liquid hit the hot, stinging welts on her back, Clary couldn't help it as her eyes rolled back in her head, the relief beyond explainable. His hands slipped up, under the back of her bra, and her heart jumped into her throat.

More on accident than anything, one swipe of his hands unhooked her bra, and with a slightly strangled noise, she raised her hands to hold the cups to her chest. She felt Jace's hands hesitate on her back, as if realizing for the first time what he was doing.

''I... How does that feel?'' he asked her quietly. ''I stole it out of the nurse's office.''

''How did you manage that?'' she asked lightly, and when he chuckled behind her, his warm breath brushed over the back of her neck and she shivered.

''She seemed too distracted by my exceptionally good looks to notice when I went just now to get a band-aid for my very painful, nonexistent wound.''

Clary laughed, despite herself. ''It feels better,'' she answered finally. ''Much better. Thank you.''

''It was my pleasure,'' he replied, and when he brushed his hands over the expanse of her back again, it was no longer the innocent touch it had been before. They slipped around to cup her sides, skimming the skin as they moved upward, his fingertips just barely brushing over the sides of her breasts under the cups of her bra as they did.

''Jace...''

''Do you want me to stop?'' he asked, his voice hot and heavy on the back of her neck.

When she didn't answer, his slid his hands further under the cups, until the soft calluses on his fingers brushed over the most sensitive part of her breasts.

She made a sound, and Jace closed his hands over her, rolling his palms over her slight mounds. Where she might have felt embarrassed, or judged at her smaller size, to her surprise she found she felt confident and comfortable.

Their chests were rising and falling in time with each other, and when her head fell back against his shoulder, he dipped his own head down to run his mouth over her exposed neck.

''Fuck, Clary...'' he breathed, his breath hot in her ear.

Her heart thrummed in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat when one of Jace's hands ventured down from her breast and clasped around the top button of her jeans.

''I don't have any damage there for you to treat,'' she teased, her voice low and uncharacteristically stable.

Jace nipped at the sensitive skin of her throat. ''I will not be satisfied until I check for myself,'' he quipped back, roughly pulling the button open and dragging down the zipper.

Clary had never even touched herself, but the idea of Jace doing it made a tremor of anticipation run through her. Everything he was doing to her was so foreign, but she found she wanted it despite her inexperience.

His hand was gentle when it slipped under the waistband of her jeans, the tips of his fingers just barely dipping beneath the thin sheath of her matching green lace underwear.

They both jumped apart at the sound of the morning bell tearing through the comfortable silence of the utility closet, remembering for the first time in the past few minutes where they were.

Clary turned around to face Jace, her face blazing red, and found he was staring at her with an almost wistful expression on his own flushed face. He shifted uncomfortably, and Clary's eyes fell down, just south of the waistband of his jeans to see the cause of his discomfort.

He swallowed hard and sighed, and Clary looked back up to meet his eyes. The blush was just leaving his cheeks as he ran a hand bashfully through his hair, and when he noticed her looking at him, he smiled sheepishly at her. It was so odd for Clary to see him so flustered, but she found she liked it, a nick in the armor he usually wore.

She couldn't help the pleased smile that forced its way onto her mouth as she reached around behind her to refasten the clasp of her bra. Jace handed her shirt and sweatshirt back to her, and she put them both back on respectively.

''I want to do this sometime when there are no brothers or morning bells to interrupt us,'' Jace said with a smirk, speaking finally, just as Clary moved past him and put her hand on the knob of the door to leave. She looked back at him. ''Preferably, of course, when you haven't just been beaten or are covered in bruises.''

Clary stepped back, tears stinging in her eyes as if she'd been slapped, and her happiness from a few moments before shattered into pieces and fell to the floor. The amusement on Jace's face sobered immediately.

''No,'' he said quickly. ''No, Clary. You are beautiful, I didn't mean to imply that your body is not...''

Clary looked at the floor, and Jace quickly cupped her face between his hands, gently forcing her head back up to face him. ''Really, Clary,'' he said, his tone adamant. ''I told you at Pandemonium that you made me believe in angels, because you are one in my eyes. I wasn't just talking about you saving my life. You are so beautiful.''

Clary pressed her lips into a tight, bitter line. ''If I were an angel, I'd be a broken one,'' she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. ''Or a fallen one.''

Hurt for her flashed in his eyes for a brief moment before he shook his head. ''No,'' he told her, his voice leaving no room for objection. ''No, you would be an avenging one.''

* * *

Clary felt surprisingly light as she passed through the rest of the day, feeling as if nothing could touch her.

The feeling was shattered sometime later that night when her father came into her room, the phone bill clasped in his hand.

He tossed it at her, and she flinched as the stack of papers hit her in the face and scattered on the floor around her. It wasn't so much painful as surprising, but it sent a flood of dread rushing through her body.

''You went into my office behind my back and used your phone?'' he growled at her, shoving her back until her knees hit the edge of her bed and she tumbled down onto the mattress. He followed her down, towering over her on her knees, and his fingers clasped around her throat. ''Like I wouldn't notice?! Like I'm stupid?!''

Now that Clary knew the truth, she couldn't help but feel like his words were meant for not just her, but her mother as well. She opened her mouth to reply, but his fingers grew tighter around her throat. She fought the urge to fight him off, knowing it would only anger him further.

The door to her room opened and Jonathon entered. When he saw the scene before him, and the littering of papers across the floor, he reached down to scoop them up. After a brief look over them, he glared at her, past the back of her father.

''Where were you?'' he demanded.

Valentine glanced over his shoulder at his son, his grip loosening in his surprise, and Clary used that moment to slip away and across the room, as far away from them both as possible.

Her father stood up from the bed, moving to stand beside Jonathon. ''What do you mean?'' he asked him, taking the papers from him and reading through them again.

Jonathon ignored him, his eyes all for Clary. ''I called the home phone, but it rang to your cell,'' he said, shaking his head. ''You weren't home at all, were you?''

''I don't know what you mean-''

He crossed the room in a flash and grabbed her by her arms, shaking her. ''Where the fuck were you?!'' he shouted at her, making her cry out.

Valentine was eerily silent as he absorbed the information, and though Jonathon was the one currently hurting her, her eyes were all for him, waiting for him to join back in.

Finally, he approached them, and Clary's eyes widened further with each step he took. Despite his calm demeanor, she knew that violence was brewing just beneath the surface.

Once he reached them, he ran his fingers through her hair, and once they passed all the way through, he looked at them as if they were dirty. ''You're a liar just like your mother,'' he breathed, his eyes looking almost sad at the fact. ''I suppose it is fitting, with how much you look like her. I was hoping over these years I could rid you of the tendencies you have of her, but I'm no longer sure it is possible to.''

''Father-''

But it was at that moment his calm finally snapped.

He struck her across the face, so hard that she screamed and spots fluttered across her vision. She tried to move away, to run, but Jonathon's hold on her kept her in place. Valentine hit her again, and again, and when Jonathon finally released her, she fell to her hands and knees on the carpet.

Blood seeped down her chin from a cut on her lip and pooled in her mouth, and she spit in out at Valentine's feet, her anger blossoming.

She heard the sound of his belt being pulled out of the hoops at the waist of his uniform, and he raised his bloody boot to kick her onto her back. Pain radiated from her side, so intense that it caused sweat to immediately break out on her skin, and she swallowed a scream.

He rested his boot back down, over her throat, more to keep her in place than to choke her, and twisted the belt into a loop.

She twisted her body around, trying to kick him and get free, and he pressed down on her windpipe.

''Jonathon,'' he snapped. ''Hold her down.''

Jonathon went immediately to his knees, putting his hands on her own to hold her in place. She glared over the toe of her father's boot at him, and she felt bile in her throat when she saw his expression.

He was staring at her with something heavy in his eyes, an intensity that scared her more than her father's belt as it arched down toward her. She could see the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, the enjoyment of watching her struggling, of her in pain as the belt cracked against her.

Even with the clothes covering her skin, the sound cracked through the air, but its violence on her ears was nothing compared to the pain that radiated through her body from the blow.

She felt tears sting her eyes, and when she looked back at Jonathon, the corner of his lip was turned up, and his chest was moving irregularly.

The punishment went on for what felt like hours before Valentine and Jonathon left her, a miserable, crumpled ball on the floor of her bedroom. The carpet around her was stained red, and the sound of her door slamming shut upon their departure was like a blow itself, reverberating through her bones.

* * *

Author's Note: This is my last pre-written chapter. My posts will slow down somewhat, but you know what motivates me to work on them and finish them faster? REVIEWS! REVIEWS ARE MAGICAL!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Some time later, Clary pulled herself back onto her hands and knees and crawled over to her nightstand. She fumbled with the handle, and it clattered noisily open, revealing the contents within. Her hand was trembling violently as she reached inside and pulled out the white slip of paper with Jace's address, and after, the phone he had given her.

She flipped it open and quickly wiped off the blood that dripped down onto the keys from her split lip, in fear of it seeping down into the phone and ruining it. She turned it on, and though she took caution to muffle it in case it sounded, she was pleasantly surprised to find that Jace had thought ahead to silence it.

Once it loaded to the main screen, she pressed a button to view the contacts. She paused over Simon's name in the Favorites bracket, but she knew better than to call him now. When she left, she knew he would be the first one her father would question on her whereabouts, and it would be better for him not to know anything.

She'd only ever used the phone to contact him, so when she went to find Jace's name in the contact list, she felt panic flood her when she didn't see his name listed under the J section.

She quickly scrolled through, her fingers trembling against the keys, and sighed in relief when she finally found it, listed under the T section. She couldn't help her lip turning as she pressed down to call ''The Sexiest Man Alive'', but her smile quickly turned into a grimace when it split her lip further and caused a fresh flow of blood to seep down her chin.

He answered on the second ring.

''Red?'' he asked, his voice slightly groggy from sleep. She glanced quickly at the clock on top of her nightstand, wincing when she saw that it was nearly midnight.

''I didn't mean to wake you-'' she said quickly, careful to keep her voice low.

''What's wrong?'' he asked her, sounding more awake. There must have been something in her voice, giving her away.

''Can I come over?'' she asked.

She could hear him suck in a breath. ''Of course,'' he said quickly, and she could hear rustling on the other end of the line, likely him getting out of bed or dressed. ''I'll meet you halfway.''

''Okay,'' she said, using the nightstand to help her get to her feet. She winced, the movement causing a wave of pain to radiate from her bruised ribs. ''How long until you will be there?''

''Ten minutes,'' he said. Then, after a brief pause. ''Be safe, Clary.''

Clary disconnected and crossed the room to her closet. She pulled an empty duffel bag out of the bottom of the space and started piling stuff in. Clothes, the money from under the floorboard, her sketchbook.

It seemed stupid to bring it when she was running away, but her mother had given it to her and she couldn't bear to leave it behind.

She finished in record time, and looked up directions to his house quickly on the phone. There was only one easy route, and her heart fluttered at the thought of Jace waiting there for her somewhere in the middle of it.

She went over to the window, intent on using the drain pipe on the wall outside to climb down, before stopping dead in her tracks upon hearing her bedroom door creak open behind her.

''Clary?'' her brother said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. She turned to face him, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and he froze where he was standing too. ''I wanted to check on you... What are you doing?''

''I'm leaving,'' she said, and to her surprise and his, her voice came out strong and steady.

''No,'' he said, his expression darkening in anger. ''No, you aren't leaving.''

''Jon...'' she said, careful to keep her own expression soft. ''Please...''

''No,'' he said, starting to turn back toward the door, likely to get their father. She crossed the room in a flash, grabbing handfuls of his sweatshirt to stop him.

He spun around, forcing her hands to fall free. ''I'm not just going to stand here and watch you walk away from this family,'' he said. ''I won't let you follow in our mother's footsteps-''

''You knew?'' she asked, her eyes wide.

Surprise flickered over his own expression. ''You _didn't _know? Why did you think father is so angry about her?'' he demanded, but something passed over his face, a bitterness that replaced his shock. He continued before she could answer. ''Of course, because mother was so perfect in your eyes and could do no wrong.''

''Father is a monster,'' Clary breathed. ''Can you really blame her?''

''_He_ is the monster?'' Jonathon demanded. ''She treated me like I was the most vile thing she had ever seen. Second to him, anyway. You were too young to see it, to notice the looks she would give me, to see her cringe every time I would go for a hug or a kiss from her.''

''Why?'' she asked. ''Why would she do that?''

''The same reason father does it to you,'' Jonathon said. ''Because I reminded her so much of father. She hated him. And instead of leaving, she stayed and made me suffer for her cowardice.''

''Like father would have let her leave,'' Clary seethed. ''Like he would have let her walk away from him.''

Jonathon opened his mouth to reply, but something dawned on her and she spoke before he had the chance.

''Is that why you do it?'' she asked quietly. ''Because you hated mother so much and I remind you of her?''

He frowned at her. ''No,'' he said. ''No. I do it because I love you.''

She startled, a small, strangled sound escaping her mouth. ''You do it because you _love_ me?'' she said angrily, forgetting to be nice. ''I'm not sure you're capable of _loving_ anything.''

''But I do love you,'' he said, ignoring her. ''I just don't want you to end up like her.''

''If things keep going like they are,'' Clary told him, her voice hard. ''I _will_ end up like her. I'll end up dead.''

''Clary-''

''I'm serious, Jonathon,'' she said, her voice heavy with threat. ''Father's in the basement, right? He's always in the basement this time of night. If you leave to go get him, I will be dead by the time you get back.''

He blanched, and for the first time in his life, looked at her with something closely resembling respect. ''I guess I can't do anything then,'' he said quietly. ''I doubt I can say anything to stop you.''

''If you really love me, Jon,'' she said, her voice growing soft again. ''You will understand why I have to do this.''

''He'll find out,'' Jonathon told her. ''He'll come after you.''

She nodded slowly. ''I know. Just give me until morning.''

''I'll be with him when he does,'' he said softly. ''And I won't let you leave again.''

''I know.''

There was a long, tense silence, before he turned to leave. ''Go,'' he said, opening the door. ''I'm not going to stop you.''

Clary felt tears gather in her eyes, though she didn't quite understand why. ''Thank you,'' she said, going to her window to pull it open.

Just as she slipped outside she heard him speak one last time, his voice just barely more than a whisper.

''I do love you.''

* * *

By the time Clary had descended the drain pipe and made it down one block, she knew too much time had passed and Jace was likely to be worried. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and opened it, her eyes widening when she saw the time. Thirty minutes had passed since she'd disconnected with Jace.

She was just about to call him again when her hand froze over the key, movement down the street from her catching her eye.

Jace was running in her direction, and even upon seeing her, did not slow. He stopped once he reached her, putting his hands on his knees, breathless and his cheeks flushed.

''Jace,'' she said, touching his shoulder. ''You ran all the way here?''

He looked up at her, his eyes flashing. ''You... Were late...''

Before she could say anything else, his arms were around her, and though the crushing embrace somewhat hurt, Clary didn't mind it. She felt tears well in her eyes and spill over, and he mistook her sob for a sound of pain.

Her jerked away from her suddenly, holding her at arms length. ''You're hurt,'' he said. ''I am such an idiot. I shouldn't have-''

''It's okay,'' Clary said, and to her embarrassment, started to cry harder.

Jace took her in his arms again, this time like she was the most fragile thing he had ever handled. He pressed his lips to her hair, breathing in the subtle scent of her strawberry hair product. He ran his hands comfortingly down her back, and whispered sweet nothings into her ear until she calmed.

Once they parted, he gave her his back and knelt down. He could feel her eyes boring into his back, and when she didn't move, he looked over his shoulder at her. ''No,'' he said, before she could object. ''I'm not kidding. Get on.''

''Jace-''

''Now.''

With a roll of her eyes and a hint of a smile, she climbed onto his back and he stood back up again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, fresh cotton and the remnants of his soap.

He hooked his arms under her knees, locking her in place, and started back down the street in the direction he had come from.

Jace didn't ask her any questions or make her explain, and they made the journey to his house in companionable silence.

* * *

Once they reached his house and ascended the staircase to his room, he set her down gently beside the bed.

She turned her back to pick out the pajamas she'd packed from her bag, and when she turned around again to face Jace, she found him in the middle of pulling his shirt off over his head to get ready for bed. Clary froze, her eyes making a lazy journey down his chest, and sometime during her inspection, Jace noticed her staring and cleared his throat.

''None of that,'' he said, his voice slightly off. ''I am going to try my best to be a gentleman tonight, and looking at me like that is a quick way to throw my efforts out the window.''

She flushed, flashing him a guilty smile.

''I am going to get something to clean the blood off your face,'' he said, his voice growing serious. ''When I get back, can I see the damage?''

Clary swallowed hard. ''Are you sure you want to?''

He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncertain. ''Ask me after,'' was all he said before disappearing into the adjoined bathroom.

Clary took advantage of his departure to change, quickly disposing of everything besides her underwear and slipping into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. Jace returned, holding a damp cloth in his hand, and they both sat down on the bed facing each other.

He cleaned her face carefully, as if she might break under his touch, and asked her constantly if he was hurting her. The skin beside her lip was sore and already starting to bruise, but even when he did hurt her, she lied and told him she was fine.

Once he finished, he put the washcloth into the clothes hamper beside his dresser. He sat back down on the bed and Clary got up, her hand on the hem of her shirt.

Jace swallowed hard as he watched her lift her shirt, and she was careful not to pull it too high and give him an entirely different show.

He was careful to keep his face neutral and not react as she exposed the red welts that spanned the front of her body, and the bruise that was now consuming her entire left side. It was at that moment that her brain decided to remind her how ugly she must look, so broken and blotchy and battered.

She quickly pulled her shirt back down, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

Jace seemed to read her thoughts, and despite her protests, leaned forward to put his hands on her hips and gently lead her toward him.

He moved her to stand between his legs, his mouth even with the space just above her belly button and his eyes with her chest. He moved his hands from her waist, using them to drag her shirt back up to expose her stomach.

''You are beautiful,'' he told her, his breath warm against her skin. His hands skirted around her sides to span her back, still careful to keep her shirt raised.

Clary made a small, strangled sound when he pressed his mouth to her belly. He started to press soft, wet kisses to her exposed skin, careful of the bruised parts.

Clary's cheeks heated again, but for an entirely different reason. Her chest started to rise and fall faster, but Jace didn't seem to notice. His eyes were closed, like he was in his own little world where his sole goal was to make her feel beautiful and appreciated.

''Off,'' he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, and before she could think better of it, she pulled her shirt up and over her head.

Jace drew back slightly to look at her, his eyes glowing. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to, not when it was so clear on his face when he looked at her.

He pressed his lips to her damaged skin again, this time moving the trail of kisses up her skin, and Clary trembled beneath his hands.

She gasped when his lips brushed over her breasts, each in turn, and teased her nipples with his teeth. When he would be on one, his corresponding hand would make the trip around from her back to cup the other one in his hand, kneading the supple skin in time with each suck of his mouth.

Once she got over her initial shock of the act, she brought her hands up to tangle in his hair, and he moaned softly against her skin.

''Jace...''

He shifted his body off of the bed to stand, moving his mouth from her breast to her collarbone, to her neck, and then up to her mouth.

Clary gasped again, and he tangled his own hands into her hair, taking advantage of her surprise to gently press his tongue into her mouth.

Clary had never been kissed before, and never in a million years would she have imagined it would be with Jace. But Clary knew in that moment that she wouldn't give anything in the world to have it be someone else. In every cell of her body, it was right.

They stayed like that for a long time before Clary's exhaustion finally caught up to her, and sensing it, Jace pulled away with one final, chaste kiss, and guided her down to the bed.

Clary expected him to be disappointed that the kiss would not lead to anything further, but when he handed her back her shirt, his expression was so soft and understanding that it nearly broke her heart.

He climbed under the sheets and held his arm out for her, and she settled in beside him, cradled in the bend of his arm. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, breathing in the soothing scent of him.

She felt him kiss the top of her head.

''I have to warn you,'' he said softly, his breath rustling her hair. ''I have horrendous morning breath.''

She snorted, and she could almost feel him smile despite not being able to see his face. She draped herself over his body, making herself comfortable, and almost instantly she felt sleep pulling at her.

''Me too,'' she said quietly, her voice fading as she neared sleep. ''We can have a competition in the morning to see whose is worse.''

''Deal,'' he said in a whisper.

Clary fell asleep a few short moments later, feeling for the first time ever truly, completely, safe.

* * *

Author's Note: I got quite a few amazing reviews from you guys, so I sat down and pounded this out last night in thanks! Please continue reading and reviewing!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Clary woke up the next morning blanketed in such heat that she could feel sweat trickling between the valley of her shoulder blades and down various other planes of her body. She drew herself up onto her elbows, and the movement immediately brought her face to face with Jace and his eyes of molten gold.

''You drooled _all over_ my chest.''

Clary flushed.

''You're lucky I find it adorable,'' he said lightly, his tone still trying and failing to sound irritated at the fact.

She smiled guiltily at him, using her hand to wipe away the fine trickle of saliva she'd left on his bare chest. His eyes left hers to watch the progress of her hand, and when she noticed him watching, let her fingers linger on the too hot skin.

''You talk in your sleep, too.''

Clary raised an eyebrow at him in question, before looking down to run a fingernail over one of his nipples.

He sucked in a breath sharply, his hand coming up to grab her wrist. ''What did I say?'' he said. ''None of that.''

She frowned at him, pulling her wrist out of his loose hold and continuing her ministrations. ''You didn't behave very well last night anyway, if I remember correctly,'' she replied smartly.

''I said I would try to be a gentleman,'' he said. ''And by my usual standards, I could be nominated for an award for my manners last night.''

''What are you usual standards?'' she asked him curiously.

He shrugged casually. ''When I was in juvie, they would let us out sometimes to go to art museums and other venues that were deemed educational and enlightening,'' he explained. ''It didn't take much for me to get one of the employees or attendees to sneak into the bathroom with me or a closet so that I could have my way with them.''

Clary frowned. ''And you don't have the desire to do that with me?'' she asked, trying to keep her voice light and teasing, hating how the thought of him feeling so wild and passionate with someone else made a strange turmoil brew within her.

He snorted. ''You aren't exactly in the best physical state to enjoy me fucking you against a wall or bending you over a counter, are you?''

Clary flushed, her mind immediately filling with the visuals he had just given her, and his eyes darkened as he looked over her face.

''Besides,'' he said, struggling to keep his voice even. ''I would want it to be more than that when we are together.''

''When?'' she asked. ''Not if?''

She yelped in surprise when he suddenly rolled them over in the bed, keeping most of his weight off of her as he did, but she could feel his excitement pressing against the vee of her hips and her breath caught in her throat.

He smiled knowingly against her skin as he traced chaste kisses down her neck, moving his own body lower as he did, giving her a silent answer to her question. He hooked a finger into the top of her shirt to give him access to the valley between her breasts, kissing the burning skin there.

The door slammed open and Clary jumped in surprise, looking over with wide eyes to see Isabelle standing in the doorway. Jace sighed against her skin, before releasing his finger from her tank top and turning his head to glare at his sister.

''I...'' Isabelle started, her own shock at the scene before her taking over. ''I heard a yell, I thought...''

''You heard a woman yell in my room and thought to investigate?'' Jace asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Her expression darkened, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. ''It's not like you have had any girls over since you got out of juvie,'' she reminded him. ''Not since Clary came into your life. I figured it was her, and I was worried she was hurt.''

She turned her dark eyes to Clary, her expression softening. ''You're here... That means you are, doesn't it?''

''Isabelle,'' Jace said before Clary could answer. ''We are kind of in the middle of something. You mind if we save the Q and A for later?''

Isabelle huffed, but reluctantly left and pulled the door shut again behind her.

Jace looked back at Clary, starting to return to his actions from a few moments before when a question occurred to her. ''Wait, I talk in my sleep?'' she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders to stop him. ''What did I say?''

Jace moved his body up hers until their eyes were even again, and Clary found herself surprisingly disappointed that his body was calm and no longer in its excited state. He leaned down to press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips, and her disappointment immediately dissipated.

He smiled against her lips.

''My name.''

* * *

Clary sat on the back of Jace's motorcycle, and though he tried to pry her arms from around his waist and sweet talk her into getting off after they parked, she refused to.

They were in a parking space outside of Luke's bookstore, after having decided that it was the best course of action now that Clary had left her father and the need for his apprehension had been put on fast-forward. They were crossing their fingers that Luke knew something, anything really, to give them insight into Clary's mother and where she might have hid any evidence she had against Valentine.

But Clary wasn't ready to face him or the ugly truths he was likely to tell her about her mother, and Jace gave up trying to force her and waited patiently for her to go inside on her own.

Between them and Isabelle and Alec, the jury was split on if it was a good idea for Clary to go alone or with Jace to see Luke. Jace and Isabelle thought Luke would be more forthcoming with information if it was only Clary, but Clary and Alec both agreed that she was likely to avoid the hard questions that needed answering if she was alone.

''Sometimes people need a push when it comes to the truth, especially truths they don't want to know or ones they wish weren't true at all,'' was Alec's defense, and Clary had the feeling he was speaking more from his own experience than on her behalf. Either way, she appreciated the support.

Due to the personal nature of the visit, the ultimate decision was up to Clary, and Jace agreed to accompany her to see the bookstore owner.

Finally, Clary sighed and stepped off of the bike, and Jace followed after her. He put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her in for a gentle, reassuring hug, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

When he pulled away, Clary took a deep breath, and with seemingly all of her strength, pulled open the door to the bookstore.

* * *

The bookstore was empty when they went inside, aside from Luke sitting behind the counter with his glasses on and a book open on his lap. He looked up when the bell above the door chimed and alerted him to their presence, and he smiled when he saw Clary.

''Clary, it's good to see you,'' he said, closing the book and walking around the open side of the counter. His smile faltered when he noticed the welts visible over the neckline of her sweater.

''Who's your friend?'' he asked, turning to look at Jace standing beside her.

''Jonathon Herondale,'' Jace said, holding out his free hand. Luke startled visibly upon hearing his name, but after seeing his other hand taken at his side by Clary, he recovered quickly and shook the extended one. ''Jace.''

''Nice to meet you, Jace. I'm Luke,'' Luke introduced. He turned to Clary, and despite the nature of the next words he spoke, they were light. ''Interesting company you keep, Clary.''

''There's a reason we're here,'' Clary said, her expression serious, and Luke's sobered immediately.

''Are you... Are you alright?'' he asked her carefully.

''I ran away from Valentine,'' Clary said. ''I stayed with Jace and his siblings last night.''

Luke's eyebrows shot to his forehead. ''I was wondering when you would... When it would get too bad. Your mother-''

''That's why we are here,'' Clary interrupted sharply. ''I wanted to know more about my mother.''

Luke hesitated, stalling to flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED and drag a few chairs over from the side of the room. Clary and Jace sank immediately into theirs, and when Luke sat down as well, his body was heavy and he was slow to speak.

''How much do you already know?'' he asked wearily.

''I know about the affair,'' Clary told him quietly.

Luke let out the breath he'd been holding in one long, heavy sigh. ''I am sure you probably blamed your mother and I for your father's behavior after you found out,'' he stated. ''And I can understand why you would. But despite my willingness to shoulder some responsibility for our actions, you have to remember that there is no excuse for Valentine ever laying a hand on you.''

''I know...'' Clary said, her voice barely more than a whisper. ''How did you know her?''

Luke sat back in his chair, his eyes growing distant. ''I went to high school with her and Valentine. I was on the football team with him. We were all actually pretty good friends in the beginning...''

''What changed?'' Jace pressed.

''He found out about my feelings,'' Luke replied, an edge to his voice. ''Made her cut off communications with me after high school and threatened me to stay away, too.''

''What did he threaten?'' Clary pried gently.

Luke looked over at Jace, an odd smile on his face. ''I just realized what a small world it is,'' he said in explanation, before continuing the story. ''My sister Amatis got into some trouble in high school, some vandalism and harassment charges against an ex boyfriend, Stephen Herondale.''

''My father?'' Jace mused.

''The one and only,'' Luke said. ''He'd left her for your mother, Celine... My condolences, by the way, on her passing.''

Jace nodded slowly, and upon Clary's inquisitive look, he told her, ''My mother passed away giving birth to me. I didn't know her.''

After a respectful pause, Luke continued. ''Well, Valentine's father had been a police officer at the time, and because he was my friend, he pulled some strings to bury them,'' Luke explained. ''But he threatened to surface the charges again to keep me away.''

''How did you two reconnect?'' Clary asked.

''Your father is controlling and abusive,'' he stated, his voice hard. ''As you well know. And it got to a point where your mother didn't care much for herself or the risk she would be taking to contact me. I don't know if she meant for it to become what it did, but at the very least, she needed some hope that things could be better.''

Clary swallowed hard. ''She tried to leave. Did you know that?'' she asked, her voice unsteady. Jace reached over and took her hand, giving her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Luke hesitated, before nodding slowly. ''I knew she had some scheme to get away from him, but she never told me anything,'' he said tightly.

His eyes grew soft as he gazed at Clary. ''She planned to take you with her. She'd talked so much about you, showed me the drawings you would give her. It was like you were there with us before I had even really met you,'' he said. ''I hope it isn't inappropriate for me to say this, but I already felt like you were my own. Because that's what I wanted, and what your mother wanted. For you to go away with us and for us to be a family.''

Clary felt tears well in her eyes at his confession, and despite the anger she wanted to feel towards him, she found it warmed her heart. ''But she died,'' she said, her throat tight. ''She died and left me there.''

Luke swallowed hard, his own eyes glazing over with tears. ''It killed me to know that you were there with him after she passed away and there was nothing I could do about it,'' he said. ''The day you walked through my door was the most important day of my life, second only to the first time I laid eyes on your mother.''

''Why?'' Clary asked, the tears finally spilling over and down her cheeks.

''Because it was my chance to make things right,'' he said. ''To help you where I failed Jocelyn. That's what you are here for, right? For my help to bring Valentine to justice?''

''We think Clary's mother might have hidden something here with you,'' Jace said. ''Or with someone else that was important to her. She had some form of evidence against him that she planned to use to buy her freedom.''

''Well...'' Luke said, his eyebrows raising. ''She did leave some boxes here. I never went through them, it was too hard after she passed...''

Jace brightened immediately, and Clary slowly wiped the tears away from her face. She looked over at him, hope lighting her eyes as the lack of it had dimmed them before.

With a nod from her, a silent assurance, he looked back to Luke.

''Can we see them?''

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Kind of boring, I'm sure, but there is always calm during a storm. Or it's just plot building. Who knows! Anyway, REVIEW!


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Clary, Jace, and Luke soon found themselves neck deep in boxes. Upon Clary's and Jace's startled expressions, Luke shrugged and said, ''I suppose she left more here than I originally thought.''

They set to work on the boxes, but it was clear that a thorough search would span into a few days. It was mostly papers pertaining to her financial records, or sentimental things, like the drawings that Clary made for her when she was younger.

When Jace first came upon them, he pulled out a big stack and thumbed slowly through them, his eyes moving over the pages in amazement. ''These are yours?'' he asked her, holding up a few samples of her work.

She looked up from the box she was sorting through, her hands clasped around one of her mother's vibrant scarves. There were tears in her eyes, but when she saw what Jace held in his hands, they dissipated almost immediately.

''She kept those?'' Clary exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. ''How embarrassing!''

''Embarrassing?'' Jace asked, looking through the papers again with a confused expression, wondering if he had missed something.

Once he figured out they were seeing the same thing, he said, ''Clary, these are amazing.''

She snorted. ''I drew those when I was like eight or nine.''

His eyebrows rose to his forehead, and he leaned toward her intently. ''Do you still draw?'' he asked adamantly. ''Some of these are paintings. Do you still paint?''

''Luke has some paintings on display behind the counter,'' she said, beaming at his excitement. ''I will show you my sketchbook when we go back to your house too, if you want.''

Luke cleared his throat. ''About that,'' he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked up from the box he was sorting through. ''I have room in my apartment, Clary. If you wanted someplace more... Permanent, to stay. Once things settle down.''

Clary sucked in a breath, so surprised by the offer that for a good few moments she didn't know what to say. ''I...'' she started, trying to piece together a coherent thought.

Luke had known her mother, much more than Clary would ever get the chance to. He'd wanted to be the father she deserved ever since he'd met Jocelyn, and even though she had imagined herself staying with Jace forever, it wasn't practical.

''I would really like that,'' Clary said softly, giving him a warm smile.

A harsh bang sounded from upstairs, making all of them jump. They were in the storage basement beneath Luke's bookstore going through the boxes, and they had been undisturbed until that moment due to the 'CLOSED' sign on the front door.

Luke frowned, and for some reason, Clary's stomach turned nervously at his cautious expression.

''You two stay down here,'' Luke told them, and though he tried to make the command sound light, there was an edge to it that disturbed Clary further. He started for the stairs, but stopped on the first step to look back at Jace.

He raised his hand and pointed to a door that was partially concealed by a stack of boxes. ''If I stomp twice, get her in there and don't make a sound.''

Something passed between the two of them, something lost completely on Clary, but she waited until Luke had gone to ask about it.

''What is wrong?'' Clary asked Jace, though her eyes were still looking toward the top of the stairs, where Luke had just disappeared out the door from the basement. Clary could hear his footsteps on the floorboards above her head as he crossed the floor to the front door of his store.

''He thinks it might be Valentine, or some of his goons,'' Jace answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He was listening for Luke's footsteps, but the sound of them had gone dead since he'd reached the front door.

''But-''

Clary's voice cut out as they heard the quick scuffle of footsteps on the floorboards, then a loud thud and crash as someone fell onto the ground. Glass shattered on the ground a few seconds later, as something else toppled over, and Clary could hear Luke's grunt even through the small crack he'd left in the basement door.

Clary started for the stairs, but Jace was faster. He grabbed her around the middle, and covered her mouth with his hand before she cried out in protest.

''No,'' he whispered, his voice harsh in her ear. ''Clary, you can't go up there.'' He pulled her back against his chest and held her fast.

There was more scuffling above them, and then a sound that made the blood in Clary's veins go cold.

Two heavy, solid stomps on the floor.

* * *

Jace didn't even hesitate before pulling her toward the door that Luke had indicated earlier. He quietly moved the boxes aside, his actions fluid and sure. He made a new stack of boxes a few inches from the door, and once he'd freed the door to open just barely wide enough for them to enter, he snaked his hand back out to pull the stack in front of the door in order to fully conceal it.

Clary felt the string of the light dangling from the ceiling and brushing against her cheek, but she didn't dare to turn it on, even though the room they were in was pitch black.

She felt Jace in front of her, his back to her, and she blindly reached her hands out for him. He tensed when he felt her fingers skim over his back and grab handfuls of his shirt, but she felt the muscles beneath her hands slowly relax.

He turned around a few moments later and slipped his arms around her. He must have been able to see better in the dark than she could or his eyes had adjusted faster, because the next moment he swept her up into his arms and sat down on the cold concrete floor of the storage closet without bumping a single thing.

He settled her down on his lap, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder, her hands knotting themselves once again in the fabric of his shirt. Both of them were breathing erratically from the adrenaline rushing through their veins.

The scuffling continued above them for a few moments longer before a set of footsteps broke away from it, moving in the direction of the basement door.

''Jace-''

His arms around her tightened as footsteps creaked down the wooden staircase, silencing her, his mouth a warm presence against her hair. His body was tense beneath her, itching for the action he was suppressing.

Clary startled when something outside of the closet was knocked over and a resounding crash sounded, and Jace leaned down to press his lips to her ear.

The breath Clary had been holding eased out at the sensation, and he nibbled her earlobe. For the first time she felt the urge to push him away, to tell him it wasn't appropriate, to remind him that Luke was likely bleeding out on the floor just above their heads.

But then she realized what he was doing and why, and she suppressed the protest in her throat and let herself be distracted. Another crash sounded and Jace was quick to cover her mouth with his, catching her gasp, and he pressed his tongue into her mouth to stop any more.

She was careful to not sound the moan that rose in her throat from the action, and turned her body into his. He took advantage of the repositioning and slipped a hand up under her shirt, under her bra, cupping the soft mound of her breast in one fell movement.

Despite the situation, she couldn't help but enjoy the fact that Jace seemed as thoroughly distracted as she was.

A few more crashes sounded, but they were only background noise to the pair. Jace's lips were hot against hers, relentless and demanding, as was the hand that teased her breast.

It wasn't until Clary and Jace heard a second pair of footsteps approach the basement door from above and speak that they pulled apart to listen, albeit reluctantly.

''Pangborn, you find any sign of her?'' a voice called down into the basement.

''No. There is a bunch of shit down here though, Blackwell,'' the man, Pangborn, answered, from too close to the storage room door. ''He said Valentine's brat isn't here, but a bunch of this stuff belongs to her mother.''

''Burn it,'' Blackwell ordered.

Clary made a sound and went for the door, but Jace was quick to retain her and spin her around, pinning her between his body and the floor even as she struggled against him. When her writhing foot made just the briefest contact with something else in the room and it scraped against the floor, Jace used his knees and his weight to immobilize her lower limbs.

He grabbed both of her wrists in one of his large, lithe hands while the other clasped down on her mouth. His eyes were blazing when they met hers, flashing even without a source of light, his anger so alive.

But Pangwell didn't seem to have heard her, because he just continued shuffling boxes around outside of the door. He must not have seen the frame behind the boxes, and Jace had a sinking feeling in his gut as to why.

He was stacking more of the boxes in the way of the door, further concealing it, gathering the boxes for an easy burn and effectively trapping them inside the room.

A match was struck, the pull of the head across the sandpaper sounding like death to Jace's ears, and a few short moments later Jace could smell the bitter aroma of the paper burning.

Clary had stopped struggling beneath him, and when he looked down at her, her eyes were wide and frightened. There were tears streaking down her cheeks, her hope leaving her body.

Jace felt his anger at her from moments before seep out of him at the sight of her so helpless and distraught beneath him, and his hands released their holds on her to brush over her cheeks.

He could see the smoke that leaked under the door clouding the air even in the dark, and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips to comfort her. As he pulled away, he hooked a finger under the collar of her shirt and pulled it up over her mouth and nose, a makeshift mask to filter the air.

Her eyes watered again, this time from the smoke, and he felt his eyes do the same. He pulled his own shirt up over his face, and he could feel Clary struggle beneath him to contain the coughs that fought to free themselves from her chest. The smoke had yet to have an effect on him, likely because he had picked up the habit of smoking in juvie, but even so, Clary and her lungs were much smaller than he and his lungs were.

Most of the smoke rose to the ceiling, and as desperately as Jace wanted to get himself and Clary out of the closet and away from the fire, he needed to wait until the last possible moment and Blackwell and Pangborn were gone.

Clary sat up and pressed her mouth to his shoulder, and he held the back of her head as she suppressed the sound of her coughs against his shirt. His own lungs were starting to burn, the filter of his shirt only so effective. He could feel Clary start to sag against him as the last of the oxygen in the small room was running out, and the edges of his own vision were beginning to darken.

Just as he reached for the handle of the door, on his knees with Clary in one arm and cradled against his chest, he heard Pangborn's footsteps as he crossed the room and ascended the stairs.

Jace stalled just a few minutes longer, until he heard two sets of footsteps cross the room to the front of the store, the two goons making a quick retreat due to the spreading fire. There was still no sign of Luke.

Jace had to shove against the door to get it to open, causing boxes to tumble over and the fire to worsen, but he didn't care. He carried Clary out, not even looking back to see the damage before making for the stairs and spilling out the open basement door.

Clary pulled her shirt down from her mouth and gasped in the clean air, rolling onto her back on the hardwood floor, and Jace did the same. Both of them were covered in black ash from the smoke, and Jace found the worst thing of all to be that it dimmed the brightness of Clary's fire hair.

Clary's mind went to much worse things.

''The evidence!'' she cried, starting to scramble back toward the door, but Jace grabbed her back.

''I will go,'' he said before she could protest. ''Check on Luke.''

''Luke is fine,'' a voice said from across the room, and Jace and Clary both turned with expressions of relief to see Luke standing beside the counter. He was leaning with most of his weight off of his right leg, the ankle of which seemed to be swelling as they watched, and there was blood smeared from two different sources on his face.

He looked at Jace, fixing his glasses as he did, one of the lenses cracked down the center. ''Fire extinguisher behind that bookshelf there,'' he said, pointing. ''I'll grab the one behind the counter and meet you down there.''

* * *

It took them a good fifteen minutes to extinguish every last lick of flame. Most of the papers were ruined beyond recognition, but the fire had not reached a few boxes. Pangborn and Blackwell had obviously not expected Luke to recover quickly enough to save them, but he'd admitted to faking the extent of the harm they'd done to him. It wasn't his first round with these specific goons, and he learned early on to play dead until they stopped.

Clary sat among the worst of the boxes, covered in ashes and the chemicals from the fire extinguisher that had gotten on her during her frantic attempt to save the papers.

She looked at Jace, and his heart sunk into his stomach when he saw how dull her beautiful eyes had become. Despite this, he had never seen anything so beautiful.

An angel amid destruction.

A light in the darkness.

Jace went to kneel in front of her, moving slowly, as if afraid to startle her. He held his hand out to her, palm up, his golden eyes searching hers. When he found no spark, no sign of life, he said, ''Let's go home, Red.''

There was a flicker, a light, and every so slowly, she reached for him.

They left together, with promises to Luke to return, and disappeared together into the night toward home.

_Home_.

Clary wasn't sure she had ever really known the meaning of the word. But if she took anything from the horrible events of the night, it was a hope that someday soon she would.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the short break! I got a book in the mail that I have been waiting FOREVER to be released. If you like supernatural fiction (I assume you do, since you read The Mortal Instruments or saw the movie), I suggest checking out the Jane Yellowrock series. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. PLEASE REVIEW. REEEEEEVIEW.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

''What the hell happened to you two?''

It was Magnus that voiced the question, just as Clary and Jace caught him sneaking out the front door of the Lightwood's house.

''I take it your date with Alec went well,'' Jace said with the raise of an eyebrow, making his words a statement rather than a question.

''I'm sure you and he will have plenty of fun talking about it later, like the girlfriends that you are,'' Magnus replied, boredly inspecting his nails.

But there was a twinge to his lips, a pleased look about him, and Clary felt her heart warm inside her chest with happiness for him and Alec. It was obvious that Alec struggled with his sexuality, and this was a victory for him.

''I feel like it will slip my mind while I am in bed tonight with my actual girlfriend,'' Jace replied with a smirk. ''But I am sure he will mention it in the morning if it is worth mentioning.''

''It is,'' Magnus said with a wink.

He moved to leave, but not before surprising Clary and pulling her into a hug. The reality of her presence there must not have been lost on him, her need to stay with Jace and away from her family. Or maybe it was just the desolate look on her face that had been evident since they'd left Luke's bookstore.

To further her surprise and Jace's, he didn't seem to mind that some of the ash from Clary's skin and clothes had rubbed off on his own.

Once he left, Clary turned to look at Jace.

''Girlfriend?''

Jace smiled, but didn't answer, just pulled her behind him and into the house.

* * *

Clary gasped when her back hit the cold tile wall of the shower. Jace ran his hands up her stomach, careful of the still-healing bruises, to cup her bare breasts, his mouth on her neck.

She had insisted that he have the shower first, because he would take less time than her and use less of the hot water. But just as his pants had hit the floor, leaving him in nothing more than his black boxer briefs, she'd barged into the bathroom in only her underwear and thrown herself into his arms.

Jace bit at the pulse in her neck, his hands leaving her breasts to grip her thighs, lifting her up until her legs found their way around his hips and she tangled her hands in his hair.

He pressed his hips into hers, forcing her back roughly against the wall, craving to fill the space between her legs with a specific piece of his own anatomy.

''Jace,'' she gasped. ''Please.''

It wasn't happening like he had wanted it to. He wanted it to be soft, and sweet, and everything every girl wanted it to be.

But Clary had a very different idea of what she wanted, and he found himself more than happy to oblige.

She kept one hand in his hair while the other ventured down between their bodies, and Jace couldn't help but gasp as her nimble fingers brushed his aching shaft as she yanked down the band of his boxer briefs.

''Clary,'' he breathed, a pitiful protest, but he did not fight her as she forced them the rest of the way off of his hips to fall to the wet floor of the shower.

The water poured from the faucet and fell over them like rain, and Clary blinked through the spray to look down at him, so hard and ready, with only the thin fabric of her underwear between them.

''Clary,'' Jace said again, his voice more forceful than before. ''I don't want you to rush into this, you're upset-''

''I'm not upset,'' she said, her hand stilling on his waist, the nails digging into the sensitive skin there. He hissed, fighting to stay strong against her seduction.

''We had a setback today. I admit that I am disappointed, and discouraged,'' she explained softly. ''But I need something good. Something to outweigh the bad.''

''I can assure you I will be good'' he said with a smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes. ''But I do not want you to regret it in the morning.''

''I can assure you that I won't,'' Clary quipped back, looking up at him with fire in her vibrant green eyes. There was still some ash evident on her skin, streaking down her face and body like black-tinged tears, staining the teal cotton panties that covered the elegant vee between her legs.

Jace gently set Clary back down on her feet, and the disappointment on her expression that resulted from the action faded when he reached for a bottle of citrus scented soap and poured some of the orange liquid into his hand.

Clary watched his face as he smoothed his hands over her shoulders, down the soft planes of her back, and around her body to once again cup the sweet mounds of her breasts. He pressed her back against the wall, massaging the skin deeply with his fingers, and neither of them seemed to mind the way his hands faltered slightly due to the nerve damage the beating in juvie caused in them.

His hands smoothed lower again, to grasp her waist, and he gently turned her body until her breasts pressed up against the cold tile wall and her back was exposed to him.

Jace was a hot presence behind her, but he was careful not to touch her with his body. Not yet.

He smoothed his hands down her back, over the sharp angle of her lumbar spine, to skim over the elegant curve of her ass. Jace watched her hands clench against the tiles, wanting something to claw and scratch as his hands drew closer and closer to where she really wanted to be touched.

Jace left his right hand behind, on her hip, while his dominant hand continued its path down, slipping beneath the back band of her underwear. He dipped lower, feeling the heat of her against his fingertips, and he felt her jerk away from his touch.

''Clary?'' he asked, his hand freezing.

''It's okay,'' she said, her voice unsteady. ''I just... I wasn't expecting it to feel like _that_.''

It was obvious in her tone that it was not an unpleasant feeling, so once she relaxed again, he pressed one of his fingers inside of her, as deep as her body would allow, and she gasped in response to the invasion.

Once he started to move his hand, he watched her breath catch with each gentle thrust. She was wet, but also so very tight, so when Jace carefully added a second finger, he heard a small hiss escape her lips.

He slid his hand from her for a moment so that he could move closer to her, mold his body along the back of her, his mouth seeking the soft skin of her throat. He reached his hand around the front of her, sliding his hand under her panties again and over the soft mound of curls there.

He started with only one finger, but when Clary squirmed against him impatiently, her laughed against her skin and added the second. She tensed, but remained silent, and he moved his hand until her silence became little pleased sounds with each thrust.

When Jace couldn't wait any longer, he stopped his ministrations to turn Clary around and lift her into his arms. He shut the water off, not caring that neither of them had thoroughly washed away all of the ash from their bodies, and trailed water from his bathroom and across the floor of his bedroom.

He dropped her down gently to the bed, and her vibrant green eyes followed him as he reached for something in the drawer by his bed. They widened fractionally as he pulled out a condom, and Jace watched as her pulse jumped nervously in her throat.

He looked down at her, his expression as gentle as his hands as he reached down to smooth them over her sopping wet locks. ''We don't have to, Clary,'' he told her. ''We can stop.''

She swallowed hard, but she smiled and shook her head.

''Then get your sexy ass under the sheets,'' he said with a smirk. ''You're ruining my comforter.''

''Jerk,'' she mumbled under her breath, but she rolled over and pulled back the covers, sliding obediently beneath them. She laid down on her back and pulled them up over her hips, and Jace stilled in the process of joining her, the sight one he wanted to imprint in his mind forever.

Clary's fire hair was spread over his pillow, her creamy skin still streaked with ash, and the beautiful mounds of her breasts were exposed to his eyes. But it was her expression that caught him the most, the confidence in the slight upturn of her pink lips and the trustfulness in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Jace finally pulled himself back to action, sliding beneath the covers until he settled in the space above Clary, held over her on his forearms. She gasped when she felt him against her, whether from the feel of him so happy to be there with little to nothing between them or from the heat that his body was radiating.

Jace leaned down and kissed her, while his hand reached between them to apply the condom. She reached up to wind her fingers in his golden hair, pulling his face back from her, her eyes searching and finding in his eyes what she needed to see to continue.

Tenderness. Admiration.

She had never felt more treasured, more beautiful. Except maybe in the storage room at the back of Pandemonium, when he had first called her an angel.

He leaned down again to kiss her and she let him, and her back arched when one of this thumbs brushed over her breast. His other hand gently wound around her thigh to spread her legs, and his finger hooked into and pulled aside the wet fabric of her underwear.

''Are you ready?'' he breathed against her lips.

She closed her eyes and smoothed her hands over his shoulders, before nodding ever so slightly.

She caught her breath when she felt the head of Jace's shaft against her opening, and with the slightest addition of pressure, he sunk an inch or so inside of her. Her hands tensed against his shoulders, but he felt no nails and Clary was silent beneath him, so he carefully continued.

She made a pained sound and he felt fire as her nails dragged across his skin, and he stopped to let her adjust to him. He pulled back to watch her face, and he reached up to smooth his thumb over the crease between her eyebrows.

Jace pressed his mouth to Clary's as he sunk the rest of the way inside of her, swallowing her pained cry and settling against the end of her as she writhed beneath him, in obvious pain. He kissed the corners of her eyes before the tears could escape.

He gave her a few, long moments to recover before gently rolling his hips, making her hiss in pain, knowing that once he started moving the pain would alleviate.

An irrational thought crossed his mind that Clary would hate him for hurting her, and it made his second thrust falter. When the thought didn't immediately dissipate, he pulled away from her completely.

Her eyes opened at the loss of him, the crease between her eyebrows lessening as the pain left her. ''Jace?''

''I'm hurting you,'' he breathed. ''I didn't think about it... How much it would...''

To his dismay, she started laughing. Not giggling, or chuckling, full out laughing, until tears streamed down her face.

His concern drained from him, and despite himself, he felt a smile force itself onto his lips. ''It's not funny,'' he said, trying and failing to sound serious. ''Clary-''

She stopped laughing, although it was a slow process to do so, and hooked her legs around his hips, her expression growing serious again. He let her guide him to her, back inside of her, and he thrust his hips to meet hers.

She sucked in a breath, her body tensed for pain, but when it didn't come, her eyes were wide and bright when she gazed up at him.

Jace pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, to her cheek, bending his spine to suck at her breast, and if there had been even a trace of amusement left in her body, it was gone with his next thrust.

Jace was gentle at first, staying on his elbows to watch her face and her reactions to each thrust, each roll of his hips to hit that special place inside of her. But once she was truly adjusted to him, to the feel of him inside of her, he thrust faster, more forcibly sinking himself into the tight depths of her.

For the most part, he and Clary were quiet, but he liked when he would move just so that a pleased sound would escape her lips despite herself, those rare moments like a badge of honor on his chest.

There were no interruptions, and he would be sure to buy Isabelle a pink, fluffy _anything_ in thanks for giving them their privacy. Especially when the movement of their bodies became erratic, and they both cried out as they met the ends of their pleasure together.

Jace left Clary briefly to dispose of the condom and clean up. He returned to find her buried beneath the thick covers of his bed and her eyelids drooping against her cheeks.

Jace felt his heart flutter in his chest at the sight of her, and after adorning a fresh pair of boxer briefs, he slid beneath the covers to join her.

* * *

It wasn't until morning that someone burst the bubble of their happiness, in the form of a loud crash from downstairs and the sound of Isabelle screaming.

Before Jace and Clary could even react, there was stomping on the staircase and the door to Jace's room burst open, knocked nearly completely off of its hinges.

Jonathon stood in the doorway, anger swimming in the deep black pools of his eyes. The black orbs swept the room violently, taking in Clary and Jace barely more than naked and in bed together, the empty condom wrapper on the nightstand beside the bed that Jace had missed while cleaning up.

''I hope it was good,'' he said to Clary, his voice ice, chilling the blood in her veins. ''Because you won't be seeing the light of day again.''

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And all of the fluffy goodness inside of it. I tried to stay classy with it, but on the request of some of the readers, I made it slightly more graphic than I had originally intended. Sorry if the ending was confusing, it will be explained in the next chapter. REVIEW PLEEEEEASE! You guys have been awesome about reviewing. I love it.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

''It was quite spectacular, if I do say so myself,'' Jace replied, sitting up in his bed. ''And I do.''

Clary sat up, bringing the sheet with her, holding it up to cover her bare chest. ''What are you doing here?'' she demanded, her eyes narrowing at Jonathon. ''How did you find me?''

Jace freed the sheet from the end of the bed so that she could pull it up with her as she stood. A smirk forced its way onto his lips as he noticed how stiffly she moved, the space between her legs undoubtedly sore from their actions the night before.

Her cheeks flushed when she saw his expression, but she paled again when she saw Jonathon's eyes move over the scratches she had made down Jace's back and the spotting of blood that taking the sheet with her had exposed on the bed.

''I can imagine,'' Jonathon replied to Jace, ignoring his sister and her questions. ''My sister can be quite feisty.''

''I can't imagine how you would know such a thing,'' Jace replied, standing up from the bed himself. ''Seeing as you and your father have done everything in your power to beat it out of her over the past few years.''

''What do you care?'' Jonathon asked, unfazed by Jace's statement. ''You might want to get off your high horse, since she'll bear scars from _you _for the rest of her life, too.''

Jace took a step toward him, his muscles tense and prepared for violence, but Clary was quick to move around the bed and grab his arm, stopping him.

Jonathon turned his eyes to her, amusement evident in them. ''You stupid little girl. You let him stick his dick in you,'' he said, smirking. ''You think he cares for you? You think he wants you for anything more than his revenge against our family?''

Clary said nothing, just pressed her lips into a tight, thin line. But Jonathon must have seen it, that little sliver of doubt he'd planted in her mind, because he did not let up.

''I assume he's trying to get you to help him,'' he continued. ''Help him get some kind of evidence or proof against our father so that he can avenge his own, or some other sob story along those lines. What do you think he will want with you after that?''

Clary felt tears gather in her eyes in response to his words, despite herself. She didn't want them to come, didn't want his words to have the effect on her he intended them to, but in some corner of her heart, they sounded right.

''You think he's going to want to be with you? The same blood that runs in your veins runs through father's and mine. You think he can ever love you?''

''That's enough,'' Jace interrupted tightly.

Jonathon turned his black eyes to him. ''You were silent until now,'' he taunted. ''I hit the nail right on the head, didn't I?''

Clary looked up at Jace, worried that she would see him falter or see hesitation in his expression. But there was none. He just smiled over at Jonathon, and it made the doubt drain right back out of her body.

''Not quite,'' he replied. ''I was just trying to figure out what it was that I was hearing in your tone. It took me a moment, but I've discovered it now.''

Jonathon hesitated, uncertainty flashing briefly over his expression. ''And what is that?''

''Jealousy.''

Jonathon recoiled back as if he'd been slapped, and Jace's smile widened, predatory in its nature.

''Weird for a brother to be jealous of the man that is with his sister,'' Jace said, one of his eyebrows rising up his forehead. ''But you and your father are all kinds of fucked up, so I'm not entirely surprised.''

Jonathon swallowed hard, his black eyes flashing in warning. ''I'll call my father. He'll be here with S.W.A.T. and the entire precinct at his back,'' he said, refusing to acknowledge Jace's accusation. ''They'll cart you straight to jail for kidnapping, no more juvie to cushion the fall of your delinquent ass.''

''You haven't called him yet, then?'' Jace asked, the smile that was already on his lips widening.

Jonathon hesitated, realizing his mistake. His hand went for his pocket, for his phone, but Jace was faster.

The next few things happened in a blur of movement that Clary had trouble following with her eyes. One moment Jace was at her side, and the next he and Jonathon were falling against his dresser in a tangle of limbs and fists.

Jonathon's phone skittered across the floor at her feet, and she reached down to pick it up without looking away from them, watching the two with wide eyes.

Jace had the obvious advantage in skill, with experience and the full use of both of his arms, but Jonathon trumped him in brute force and size. They might have been the same height, but Jace was lithe and lean, while Jonathon was a brick wall of pure brawn and muscle.

It seemed pretty evenly matched until Jonathon rolled them over on the floor, until he towered over Jace, and landed an elbow to Jace's temple. Jace went limp beneath him, the blow stunning him, though Clary could see him fighting against unconsciousness.

Jonathon laughed, raising his uninjured arm back, blood dripping down from his nose and over Jace's chest like a faucet, the fight won.

''Stop!'' Clary screamed, and Jonathon's arm faltered.

Just as her brother turned to look at her, her fist started flying toward his face, seemingly of its own accord.

Jonathon fell to the side, a bruise almost instantly starting to form at his own temple, a mirror of Jace's injury. His eyes were closed, his body entirely fightless, and he freed Jace of his weight as he settled against the hardwood floor.

Clary shrieked again, this time due to the pain in her fist, still clutching the phone in her palm. Jace slowly started to recover, dragging himself up onto his hands and knees on the floor, his eyes wide as he looked from Jonathon's unconscious body to Clary cursing beneath her breath at his side.

Clary noticed him staring at her, and the last of her curses died in her throat. ''Are you alright?'' she asked. ''You... You're looking at me funny.''

''That's... because... you're fucking... amazing,'' he breathed, still breathless from the fight. He winced as he dragged in a deep breath, his ribs protesting the action. ''How is... your hand?''

She winced as she forced her fist open. The phone had broken and cracked from the impact, and her palm was bleeding from the broken glass face. Her knuckles had split and were already bruising, but as she carefully flexed them, it didn't seem like anything had broken.

He nodded slowly, making the same observation. He coughed once, painfully, and used the top of his dresser to pull himself to his feet. He nudged Jonathon with his toe.

''I suppose... we ought to get... out of here... before he wakes up,'' he said tiredly.

Clary nodded.

''I need to... pack some things,'' he said. ''Can you... Check on Alec and Isabelle? Have them... call our parents... and explain.''

Clary nodded again, dressing quickly and starting for the door. Just before her hand reached the knob, she thought better of it and crossed the floor back to Jace.

She saw the smile on his lips just before she covered them with her own.

* * *

Clary found Isabelle and Alec downstairs. Isabelle briefly explained the events that led up to Jonathon barging into Jace's room. She told her that he'd knocked the front door in and Alec out in a matter of a few seconds. That's when Isabelle had screamed, and Jonathon had cracked her across the face for good measure.

''I will have his balls in a jar for this,'' Isabelle shrieked, looking at her face in the mirror as Clary applied an ice pack to Alec's jaw. ''I swear I will.''

''You could do it right now,'' Alec told her, wincing as he spoke. ''While he is unconscious.''

She shook her head, her dark eyes blazing. ''Not until this all is over,'' she said firmly. ''It will be my trophy.''

Clary looked up as Jace descended the stairs, four duffel bags slung over his shoulders, one for each of them. ''You called mom?'' he asked Isabelle.

She nodded. ''They wanted to come home,'' she said. ''But they don't want to bring Max back if the situation is like this. Plus, Valentine will try and drag them down for letting us keep Clary here, but they are safe as long as they remain out of the country.''

Jace nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

''Max?'' Clary asked.

''Our little brother,'' Isabelle explained, and Clary noticed Jace brighten just from the mention of him. ''He's a dork.''

''How is he a dork?'' Clary asked offhandedly, approaching Jace to take her bag from him. The other two did the same as they prepared to leave.

''He's into that stuff that Simon is,'' Isabelle replied. ''Like... Manga and comics and stuff.''

They were moving out the front door when Isabelle spoke, but Clary stopped dead in the doorway, causing the others to bump into her. She looked back at them, her eyes widened in realization and horror.

''Simon!''

* * *

Simon didn't answer when she tried to call him, but she made Isabelle stop at his house, though it was cutting their time short before Jonathon would wake and send Valentine after them.

Before she had even parked the car, Clary was out the door and running up the driveway toward the front door. She heard the car jerk to a stop behind her, and after a very brief argument, it was Isabelle that followed after her.

Clary pounded on the door for what felt like forever before Simon finally answered it.

His eyes widened when he registered them standing before him, both bruised and worse for wear. At least, the eye that wasn't swollen shut widened. There were finger shaped bruises around his neck, and some more bruises that disappeared into the collar of his shirt.

Like a switch had been flipped, Clary started crying and threw her arms around him. He winced at the contact, but wrapped his arms tightly around her despite the pain.

He kissed her forehead before looking over her shoulder, at Isabelle. ''I am so sorry,'' he said, his voice unsteady. ''I didn't want to tell him. I would have taken the beating, but he threatened my mom and sister-''

''It's okay,'' Isabelle said with a reassuring smile. Simon felt his heart melt in his chest. ''Where are they now?''

''Headed to stay with some family out of state,'' Simon replied. ''They left a few minutes ago.''

He pulled Clary back from him until he could see her face. ''Valentine came by with some uniforms yesterday morning after he discovered you gone, before you called me to explain what was going on,'' Simon told her. ''So he bought it when I told him I hadn't heard from you. But Jonathon came by this morning... You know I'm a terrible liar... I would have held out, but then he started going after my mom and sister...''

''I tried to call you,'' she said. ''Just now. I was so scared...''

''I was packing,'' he explained, reaching up to brush the tears from her cheeks. ''They begged me to come with them, but I couldn't leave you. I was going to find you, or at least disappear for a while in case Jonathon came back.''

''You're packed?'' Isabelle asked him. When he nodded, she disappeared inside to fetch his bag, giving them a moment alone.

Fresh tears spilled down Clary's cheeks, and some welled in Simon's when he drew her back into a hug. They fell over the brims and wet her wild hair.

''Everything is going to be okay,'' he whispered softly into her ear. After he drew in a long, unsteady breath, he started repeating the set of words, like a mantra. ''Everything is going to be okay, everything is going to be okay, everything is going to be okay...''

* * *

Much to Alec's dismay, they ended up going to stay with Magnus. Jace made a few phone calls to some other people first, but most of them were old friends of his father that Valentine would likely try to contact and others didn't want to get involved before they had the evidence they needed to go after Valentine.

''Welcome!'' Magnus said, throwing his arms open in greeting. Jace glared at him, looking over his shoulder at the crowd of people at his back.

''You failed to mention that you were in the midst of throwing a party,'' Jace reprimanded him dryly. ''And in the middle of the afternoon.''

Magnus shrugged, his eyes lighting as he caught sight of Alec. They narrowed when he ran them down his pale face and caught sight of the bruise that ran along his jaw. ''Who would dare to mar that beautiful face?''

Alec didn't answer, his face flushing in embarrassment.

Magnus sighed. ''Come inside,'' he said to the group. ''You might as well try to enjoy yourselves, you look like you need it.''

They started to pass by him, to reluctantly join the party. Just before Clary and Jace passed through the door, he moved to stand in their way. ''What?'' Jace asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He glanced nervously behind them, at the empty street, hating to stay out in the open in the middle of the day and risk someone seeing them. Especially with Clary's bright hair like a beacon.

''You two are filthy,'' Magnus replied. ''I won't have you sitting on my furniture or on any of my guests in your conditions.''

He waved a hand at the bags that the others had dropped just inside the door. ''Take the bags and put them in the back rooms, and get yourselves some showers,'' he ordered, leaving no room for argument.

His eyes glanced between them. ''Or _a_ shower. I wouldn't mind some water conservation, just don't make a mess.''

Clary felt her whole body flush in embarrassment, but Magnus ignored her reaction, reaching behind her to shut the door firmly at their backs.

* * *

At Magnus's request, Jace and Clary lugged the bags to the back rooms, separating them out among the three bedrooms.

''Simon in with Isabelle?'' Clary asked hesitantly.

''She can handle herself,'' Jace replied lightly, opening the last door, the one that led to the bedroom they would share together. He could have stayed with Simon and had the two girls sleep together, but he didn't want to let Clary out of his sight.

Clary snorted. ''I am more worried about Simon.''

Jace flashed her a smile. ''Oh. In that case, no promises that he'll be intact in the morning.''

Clary shot him a glare, but it didn't hold.

He pulled her into his arms, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. He reached a hand up to cradle the back of her head, deepening the kiss. It was the first truly calm moment they'd had since they'd woken up that morning, and he wanted to take advantage of it.

They broke apart as they were struck by something soft and fluffy, hard enough to startle them. They looked over to see Magnus standing a few feet away, hands empty, just as the towels he had thrown at them settled on the ground at their feet.

''Shower!''

* * *

Author's Note: So... Since I stole a happy moment (the morning after) from you guys in this chapter, I will be giving you one in the next chapter. Though... Who am I kidding? It's for me too. I need a break from the angst. Haha. Anyway, I will try to post again soon, work will be pretty light this week, but I will be starting back to school next week. I will try to finish the story by then, or soon after. Nursing school is killer. Anyway, enough about my life... PLEASE REVIEW.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Jace pressed his hips harder against Clary's, making the edge of the bathroom countertop bite into the skin at the small of her back. But she couldn't feel anything beyond the soft silk of his tongue in her mouth or the gentle caress of his hand against her breast.

His other hand cupped the back of her head, supporting her as he deepened the kiss and her moan hummed through his entire body.

His hand left her breast to slide under her shirt, before his mouth broke from hers to lift it completely from her body. He let it fall into a pile on the floor, his hands roughly jerking open the fly and zipper of her jeans, eager for them to join the shirt.

Clary put her hands on his chest and forced him away, and he left her guide him back until he was flat against the wall. Her fingers forcibly unfastened the buttons of his black shirt, her mouth latching back to his with a fiery passion that did her hair color justice.

With the waist of her jeans loose, he was able to slip his hands under the band to cup her ass. She gasped, her hips jerking against his, feeling him hard and ready against her.

He withdrew one hand to slip it between them, into the front of her jeans and beneath the top hem of her underwear. She caught his wrist, stopping his fingers before he could delve them into the depths of her, meeting his surprised expression with a confident one of her own.

''None of that,'' she said, drawing back from him. She let her loose jeans fall to the floor, standing before him in just her bra and underwear. She raised a hand and beconed him with a single finger. ''Just you.''

He swallowed hard, rolling his shoulders to force his unfastened shirt to fall free from his body and join the other clothes on the floor. ''It will hurt,'' he warned her, raising an eyebrow. ''Especially since you are still sore from last night.''

''How do you know I am?'' she asked curiously, hopping up onto the counter and crossing her legs. Jace couldn't help but watch her chest as it bounced in result of her actions. She noticed his eyes, and her smile lit her face as she reached behind her to unfasten her bra. She let it fall free, to the floor, and Jace's mouth went dry.

Jace had never been with a girl more than once. He'd always thought it would be boring, but ever since he'd met her, Clary had changed everything for him.

''You walk differently,'' he replied, forcing his eyes to return to hers. ''It's not obvious to everyone else, but I can see it.''

She didn't comment, just stared at him across the small room, her eyes knowing.

Jace reached down to unfasten his jeans, his own smile finding its way onto his lips when he saw Clary's eyes follow his hands down.

His pants fell to the floor, and he watched the pulse jump in her throat.

''You're sure?'' he asked her. Without breaking her focus from the area south of his waist, she nodded.

She sucked in a sharp breath when he removed his boxer briefs, and he watched the muscles of her thighs tense as he approached her.

He hooked a hand behind one of her knees and the other found the small of her back, pulling her off of the counter and setting her solidly on the ground.

''Turn around.''

Clary turned automatically, and he smoothed his hands over her back, pressing her down until her breasts pressed flat against the cold bathroom counter. His hips pressed her forward, until she felt the counter dig into her own.

She looked up at the mirror, watching him in the reflection. She saw him reach across the counter, to the mirrored cabinet on the wall, his hand fumbling inside until he found what he wanted.

She watched him apply the condom, her body tensed in anticipation, and after he pulled her underwear aside and positioned the head of his shaft at her entrance, he met her gaze evenly in the mirror.

She hissed as he started to press inside of her, and she raised her arms from their positions against the counter beside her to lay her hands flat against the mirror. She felt the hesitation in his hips to continue, but she used the leverage her hands gave her to move her body back, further impaling her onto him.

Jace's eyes narrowed at her in the mirror, meeting the challenge, and pressed the rest of the way inside of her, regaining dominance from her. It was painful, causing Clary to cry out, but it was exactly what she wanted.

He kept one hand securely on her hip while the other smoothed over her back, loving the feel of her writhing beneath him as he withdrew and thrust inside of her again.

She was so tight, and though she remained so, he felt the muscles beneath his hands relax after a few more thrusts as the soreness and the initial pain from his intrusion resided.

The party raged outside of the door, loud enough to drown out their voices, and they did not bother to try to be quiet. Jace was not loud by nature, but he enjoyed making Clary gasp and cry out in pleasure with each rough trust.

They kept eye contact in the mirror through most of it, breaking only when the pleasure became too much for Clary and she had to look away.

When Clary's moans became ones of pain after too many thrusts of her hips against the countertop, he pulled out of her and took her hand. He laid down on the pile of their discarded clothes on the floor, guiding her down to straddle his waist. He gasped when she slid down on top of him, burying him inside her to the hilt.

He could see the uncertainty on her face, feel the hesitation in the first few rolls of her hips. He put his hands on her waist and moved his hips beneath her, helping her find a rhythm, and the unwanted emotions dissipated from her expression. Her nails dug into his chest, marking the skin.

It was a stupid moment for him to realize that he loved her. But when the thought occurred to him, as he stared up into her vibrant green eyes, her fire hair a wild curtain around her face and brushing lightly against his chest with each thrust, he knew it wasn't because of what they were doing. It was just that he never wanted to do it with anyone else besides her ever again.

Something must have passed over his face, because Clary raised an eyebrow at him. He stopped moving and laughed, raising his hand to smooth it over her brow. She must have picked up that trick from seeing him do it so often.

''What's wrong?'' she asked him. ''You look really serious.''

''It's nothing,'' he said with a smile. ''I will tell you later.''

Her cheeks heated as a thought occurred to her. ''Am I not very good?'' she asked, her earlier concerns returning. ''I don't really know what I'm doing up here, I'm sorry-''

''You are amazing,'' he said, cutting her off.

''But-''

''If you don't continue,'' Jace said, his tone serious. ''I might just die.''

Clary rolled her eyes, and Jace rolled his hips beneath her in response, his eyes flickering down to watch her breasts bounce with the movement. She gasped, her nails streaking lines down his chest.

He didn't last much longer after that, and neither did she. When they finished, she gave a final gasp as he pulled out of her, and she rolled to lay on the cold tile floor beside him.

They stayed that way for a long few moments before Jace forced himself up, lifting Clary up with him and carrying her to the shower.

* * *

They nearly bumped into Magnus on the way out, mainly because Jace was in the midst of pulling a clean shirt over his head and he didn't see him.

Magnus's eyebrows shot up his forehead, his eyes on the area of Jace's chest that had been marred with scratches, though it was now concealed by the shirt. He looked at Clary after a long moment. ''That good?''

She flushed, and Magnus took if for the answer that it was.

He looked back at Jace, his eyes narrowing. ''As compelling as that fact is,'' he said after some consideration. ''It still freaks me out that you look so much like my ex boyfriend, William.''

''And even if you were interested,'' Clary replied with a gentle smile. ''You have Alec.''

Magnus's expression dropped slightly, and Clary felt her heart drop with it to her stomach. ''If only that were true,'' he said quietly. ''He's been avoiding me since he got here.''

Before they could say anything, he disappeared into his room. Jace frowned at the closed door, knowing his friend must be really upset to have abandoned his own party. When he turned back to look at Clary, she was gone from his side.

Panic overcame him instantly, only for a moment before he found her moving through the crowd of people. It took him a few seconds to realize where she was going, and he stayed back to give her space to talk to Alec.

His heart warmed in his chest, that she would go out of her way to help his brother, and that she felt comfortable enough to do so.

He saw her through a break in the crowd talking to Alec, who was looking even more miserable than Magnus.

He saw Alec's cheeks flush at something she said, saw them exchange a few words, and his head hang low in defeat. Jace felt the urge to go comfort him, but before he could even take a step, he saw Alec nod at something Clary said and look up in the direction of the bedrooms, a fierce determination in his expression.

Then Alec was crossing the room, weaving through the crowd without breaking stride once, and he walked right past Jace without seeing him.

He didn't even knock on the bedroom door that Magnus had disappeared behind before entering, slamming it shut once he was inside.

* * *

Clary walked back over a few moments later, shyly meeting Jace's gaze, as if she were worried that he would reprimand her for getting involved. He just reached up and ran a hand through her hair, before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

They felt hands on them the next moment, and only had a second to glance over to see Isabelle's and Simon's panicked expressions before they were shoved in the direction of the door of the bedroom that Magnus and Alec were behind.

They didn't stop pushing until Jace reluctantly twisted the knob and the four of them spilled inside, just in time to see Alec straddling Magnus on the bed, their lips interlocked and their hands tangled in each other's hair.

They jumped apart at the intrusion, Alec spilling off of the bed entirely. Isabelle snorted, just the slightest break of amusement in her panic, before turning to shut the door and lock it.

''What's going on?'' Jace demanded.

''Sebastian Verlac,'' Simon said, his eyes wide. ''He's here.''

''Did he see either of you?''

Simon shook his head.

Jace looked at Magnus, feeling Clary's hand tighten on his arm. ''He ever crash your parties before?''

Magnus shook his head slowly.

''He's probably helping Jonathon look for me,'' Clary said hesitantly. ''I don't know how he would have connected us with Magnus, but if it's him and not my brother or father, that's probably a good sign. A weak lead they're following.''

''Phone records maybe?'' Isabelle suggested. ''We dumped the car too far away to be suspicious, if they were able to find it or track it. You did just call him the other day.''

Magnus stood from the bed, straightening out his rumpled clothes. ''I'll take care of it,'' he said. He crossed the room to the door, before looking back at Alec sitting up on the floor. ''I expect a hero's welcome back for doing this for you.''

Magnus left before Alec could reply, closing the door securely behind him.

* * *

Simon kept his ear to the door, while the others settled in to the room, not sure how long it would take for Magnus to get Sebastian to leave.

Everyone jumped when a crash sounded from the living room a few long minutes later, permeating through the noise of the party, and Jace had to grab Alec as he made to leave the room to make sure Magnus was alright.

The sound of the crowd cut off in response to the crash, and they could hear the people abandoning the apartment, wanting to avoid any trouble.

Simon pressed his ear back to the door, having jumped away from it in surprise, but he wasn't able to make out the conversation of those remaining, the voices too far away in the living room and muffled.

Alec shook Jace's hands off, looking irritated, but he didn't move for the door again. He just sank onto the corner of the bed, and Isabelle sat down next to him, trying to be a comforting presence for him.

Clary moved to stand next to Jace, careful to catch his attention and not surprise him before reaching over and lacing her fingers with his. He used their joined hands to pull her to him, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

''He's leaving,'' Simon said as he heard a set of footsteps moving toward the front door. It was a few tense moments after he heard it open and close before there was a knock on the bedroom door.

''It's Magnus.''

Alec somehow made it to the door before Simon could step away and twist open the handle. He threw his arms around the pleasantly stunned man behind it, before he quickly disengaged and put distance between them, his cheeks flaming red.

Magnus smiled to himself, before entering the room and closing the door lightly behind him. ''Sebastian was not happy,'' he explained before they could bombard him with questions, which he could see by their expressions they were anxious to do. ''Hence breaking a few of the very expensive vases on my mantle.''

''How much did you pay for them?'' Jace asked. Magnus narrowed his eyes at the question, and Jace flashed him an innocent smile. Even though Magnus was now old enough to go to jail rather than juvie, he had not kicked his shoplifting habit and Jace knew it.

''Anyway,'' Magnus hissed. ''I think he bought it when I told him that I hadn't seen you, or knew anything about your adorable little darling here. Whom I am very grateful for talking some sense into my very deliciously stubborn Alec. He just came in here, told me to 'Thank Clary', and thew himself at me-''

Alec cleared his throat pointedly, his cheeks still flushed.

''You have plenty of practice with lying,'' Jace commented offhandedly. '' 'No, sir, there are not vases tucked under my shirt, I'm just pregnant'-''

''Jace,'' Alec hissed, and Jace shut his mouth, though not without a roll of his eyes first.

Magnus turned his eyes to Clary. ''He was super intense when he was asking about you. Like scary, stalker intense,'' he told her. ''You need to be careful. Did Jace tell you that he-''

''I told her,'' Jace interrupted sharply.

''You told her about your hands, but did you also tell her what he was in juvie for in the first place?'' Magnus asked him.

Jace didn't answer, pressing his lips into a tight line.

Clary turned away from Magnus to look up at Jace, her expression questioning. ''What was he doing in juvie? I didn't even realize that I hadn't asked you when you told me that he'd been in with you.''

Jace swallowed hard, shooting a glare in Magnus's direction, before looking back down into her curious green eyes. ''He attacked a woman,'' he replied. With hesitation, he added, ''Sexually.''

Her eyes shot open, and the color drained from her face.

''He was unsuccessful,'' Jace explained quickly. ''She got away, but she reported him for the attempt.''

''You didn't think to tell me that before?'' she demanded, her eye narrowing at him, anger replacing her shock.

''I told you to stay away from him,'' Jace replied, his voice tight. ''I didn't want to scare you. You are already dealing with enough.''

Clary pulled her hand out of Jace's, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She put her face in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees, and Jace felt his heart drop to his stomach when he saw how badly her hands were trembling.

Isabelle, whom was already seated on the bed, scooted over until she was beside her, rubbing her hand comfortingly on Clary's back.

Jace saw Simon look over at the pair. His eyes were sad when he looked at Clary, but they changed when they moved to Isabelle, becoming a mixture of tenderness and adoration.

Jace instantly felt sorry for him, for falling for Isabelle, but when the dark-haired beauty looked up and caught him staring, Jace saw something soft and foreign in her expression that he never had before that made his pity vanish.

He felt his brotherly instincts setting in as he remembered that he'd put Simon and Isabelle in a room together, thinking she would have no interest in him. But still, the thought of being separated from Clary was enough to make him accept the room designations as they were. Besides, Isabelle was a big girl and could make her own decisions.

''You've all had a long day,'' Magnus announced to break the tense silence that had fallen over the group. ''Let's go make a late lunch and watch a movie. Everyone needs to take a moment to relax.''

As he opened the door and exited into the hallway, not waiting for the others to follow, he mumbled, ''I know I definitely need a drink.''

* * *

Author's Note: I know some of you have been anxious for Sebastian to make another appearance, and this was probably disappointing. But he will play a larger part soon, and the action will pick up as well. I hope you are enjoying the story, please keep reading and REVIEWING PLEASE.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Magnus was right. Food and a movie to relax was exactly what they all needed.

With their bellies full, of food that Jace and Alec had adamantly made sure Isabelle had no hand in cooking, they settled down in front of the big screen that was mounted on the wall in Magnus's living room. Clary made a mental note to ask him sometime if he had bought it or stolen it, and if it were the latter, how he had managed it.

Simon picked Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World from Magnus's extensive collection of movies, mumbling something about it being relevant since Clary was pretty much Ramona, with them needing to fight off a bunch of men for her.

Clary expected Jace to not show much interest in the movie, but to her surprise, he was enthralled. When Alec paused it to go refill his water, Clary asked him why, and he explained that they weren't allowed to watch very many movies in juvie, especially nothing so current.

Clary had seen the movie dozens of times, but even if it had been her first time, she wasn't sure she would have been able to watch anything besides Jace.

For the first time since she'd known him, he looked completely at ease, as if the movie had taken the world off his shoulders. She was sure it was the first time that she'd ever seen him really, truly laugh.

She cuddled into his side, not even bothering to pretend to watch the movie after a while, and rested her head against his chest. She closed her eye, listening to the rumble of laughter in his chest, and her body swayed with each movement it produced in his own.

His arm curved up around her automatically, his fingers gently brushing through her hair. He pressed a kiss offhandedly to her head, his lips warm against her hair.

After a while, Clary went to refill both of their empty water glasses, more to stretch than to quench her thirst. She heard someone trailing behind her, but didn't look to see who it was until she'd reached the fridge.

Simon leaned against the counter beside her as she reached inside the fridge and pulled out the purified water jug. He didn't have his glass, and his expression made her stomach turn nervously.

''What's up?'' she asked him cautiously, closing the fridge with her hip. She took the lid off the jug and started to refill the glasses.

''So... You and Jace?'' he asked, not looking at her.

''So... You and Isabelle?'' she said back, hearing the judgement in his tone.

He sighed. ''Isabelle didn't cut my hands open and give me nightmares for years,'' he said. ''Look, he's a nice enough guy from what I've seen so far, but he's not right for you.''

She frowned, setting the jar down and turning to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. ''Why do you say that?''

He shrugged. ''His track record, for one. He might be nice, but he's violent, too. What happens the day you get on his bad side?''

''He's not my father, or my brother,'' Clary reminded him sharply. Her actions were jerky as she put the jug of water away, a result of her poorly contained anger.

''You don't know that,'' he said. ''He already hurt you once.''

Her eyes narrowed at him. ''It was an accident.''

''You're being defensive,'' Simon pointed out.

''You're being judgemental,'' Clary quipped back. ''I trust Jace, and I would like for you, as my best friend, to give him a chance. For me.''

Simon shook his head slightly. ''I don't know if I can do that.''

She threw her arms out. ''Look at everything he's done for me! He took me in when it got too bad to stay at home. He gave me a roof over my head, twice now, and he's kept me safe,'' she said. ''Not to be a dick, but that's more than you've done for me. I don't blame you for keeping your distance, but it doesn't make it any less true and he deserves credit for it.''

''You're a means to an end,'' Simon reminded her. ''I'm not saying that he doesn't legitimately care for you, but don't pretend like anything he is doing for you is only on your behalf. He gains just as much from it, if not more.''

''It stopped being about me a long time ago.''

Clary and Simon both looked behind them to find Jace leaning against the frame of the door that led into the kitchen, and despite his casual appearance, his expression was dark and Clary could see the tension in his shoulders as if the world had settled upon them once again.

''You two weren't taking particular care to keep your voices down,'' he said dryly, in explanation of his presence.

When no one responded, beyond the embarrassed flush of Clary's cheeks, he pushed off from the frame and approached Simon. ''You can believe what I said or you can choose to disregard it. Just thought I ought to deserve to put my two cents into the conversation,'' he said, his tone caustic.

Without a word further, or even a glance in Clary's direction, he plucked his filled water glass from the counter and went back into the living room.

''Jace!'' Clary called after him, but the doorway remained empty for the long few moments that she waited for him to return.

She turned to look at Simon, her eyes blazing. ''Are you happy? There is enough going on without you going and making it worse. You're supposed to be on our side.''

''I'm on _your_ side,'' Simon corrected her. ''And I didn't realize that as your best friend I was supposed to take a backseat and not say anything when I think you're making a mistake.''

''I love him,'' Clary said, feeling her eyes water. She never fought with Simon, but the way he was looking at her now, with such disappointment and anger in his expression, was shredding her heart into a million unrecognizable pieces. ''How is loving someone a mistake?''

''You _what_?'' he asked. ''You _love_ him?''

Clary felt her cheeks flush, and she pressed her lips into a tight, stubborn line, refusing to take the declaration back.

''You have been surrounded so long by the wrong people that you don't even know what the right ones look like,'' Simon said, his expression sad. ''He might not be a wrong one, but I don't think he's a right one, either.''

''Then who is?'' she breathed. ''If you know everything.''

''I thought once that I was,'' Simon said honestly, his voice wavering slightly. ''Before I knew about everything with your family. But you're right. I never did anything to help you, not really. I'm a coward. I know that it's not me, that I am not the right person for you.''

Clary swallowed hard, her eyes widening at his confession. She opened her mouth to reply, but someone stepped into the kitchen behind them again, announcing their presence by clearing their throat.

Alec crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes angry and on Simon, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. ''Look, I understand that you have concerns and you have a right to voice them,'' Alec said. ''But maybe you can keep them to yourself until after all of this is settled.''

Simon shrugged, and when he spoke, his tone was defeated.

''She loves him, it's already too late anyway.''

He brushed past her, and then Alec, going into the living room without another word.

Clary stared after him, trying to blink the tears away from her eyes, but they would not relent.

Alec hesitated in the doorway. ''I have to admit, I was a bit hesitant at first about you and Jace. You two had a history, and a bad one, so when he first came to me about having feelings for you after that night at your house, I was less than supportive,'' he told her honestly.

''I've changed my mind since then. Not that it matters,'' he said softly. ''As a wise girl once told me earlier this afternoon, it's more important to follow my heart than worry about what the people around me might think about it.''

The tears finally fell over the brims of her eyes, but she wiped them away as a smile found its way onto her lips. ''She sounds smart.''

Alec's lip twitched, and after giving her a moment to compose herself, he tilted his head in the direction of the living room. She nodded, and followed after him out of the kitchen.

* * *

Simon wouldn't look at her the rest of the night, and as they all split ways to go to sleep some time later, he did not say anything before disappearing into the room he shared with Isabelle.

Clary went into the room she shared with Jace and shut the door, her eyes seeking him out across the room, her breath catching when he started to lift his shirt off over his head. Her eyes skimmed over his back as the muscles rippled from the movement, but when he turned around and tossed his discarded shirt at the end of the bed, her heart sunk into her stomach.

His mouth was set, his expression trying and failing to be passive, but she could see the anger in every slight movement of his body.

''Jace?''

He didn't look over at her, just took something off of the nightstand and tossed it to the side of the bed nearest her. ''Magnus lent me a phone so that we can contact Luke and tell him what's going on,'' he said.

Clary crossed the room and plucked it from the bed. ''You don't think they'll watch Magnus?''

Jace gestured toward the phone. ''It's a throw-away phone, not his normal cell. I didn't know he'd had one, or I would have let you call Luke earlier,'' he explained. ''I think he is safe for now, but I know you've been worried.''

Clary nodded slowly, but she didn't open the phone, her eyes still all for Jace.

He sighed, feeling her attention on him. ''Call Luke, we can talk after,'' he said, his tone reluctant.

Clary swallowed hard, before sitting down on the edge of the bed and typing in the number on the phone.

Luke was relieved to hear from her, to know she was safe. She didn't tell him where she was, which he agreed was for the best. He assured her that he hadn't had any further visits from Valentine or his goons, and they parted with Luke's promise that when this was all over, he had a place for her in his home and his life.

Clary set the phone down on the nightstand beside the bed. Jace was sitting opposite her on the bed, and when she turned to face him, his back was arched and his head was in his hands.

''You're angry.''

Jace said nothing for a long moment, sitting as still as a statue, and Clary found herself holding her breath as she waited for his reply. Finally, he nodded, the movement so slight she nearly missed it.

''At me?''

He raised his head, his fingertips at his lips. ''Don't be ridiculous.''

Clary sighed, finally letting out the breath she'd been holding, and crawled across the bed to him. She slid her hands over his shoulder, looping her arms around his neck and hugging him from behind. She pressed her face into his neck, but he did not reciprocate or react to any of her actions. ''Tell me what's wrong then.''

Jace still would not look at her, and Clary felt her stomach turn nervously.

Finally, he said, ''How many people will it take to say that you are making a mistake before you believe them?''

Clary swallowed hard. ''Well,'' she said after a long moment. ''That depends on one thing, I suppose.''

''What is that?'' he asked her, sounding tired and defeated.

''Do _you_ think they are right?''

Jace jerked slightly, and he finally looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. This time, she was sure the anger was towards her, and she welcomed it. ''Of course not,'' he said. ''But-''

''Then why are you worried about it?'' she asked, meeting his glare evenly. ''You think I don't feel the same?''

Jace just looked away again.

He remained still when Clary kissed the stretch of his neck beneath her mouth as she attempted to reassure him, and she trailed the kisses up until she reached the small patch of sensitive skin behind his ear. She felt him shiver, but otherwise he did not react to her.

She stopped kissing him, feeling defeated.

She eased her arms from around him, but remained on the bed behind him. ''Did you hear the rest of the conversation after you left?'' she asked him quietly.

Hesitantly, Jace nodded.

''Even when I told him that I love you?''

Jace tensed. ''I agree with what he said,'' Jace said, ignoring her confession. Clary felt a knife in her heart, instant and sharp and unrelenting. ''That you have been surrounded by so much bad in your life, that you would mistake anything that was even slightly better as right.''

Clary felt tears sting her eyes, and her hands were limp in her lap.

''I've always thought you were an angel,'' he said quietly. ''And the more I get to know you, and the more I am around you, the more I believe it. If believing it any more than I already do is even possible...''

''Jace-''

''It was stupid of me to believe that someone as dirty and ruined as me deserved to be with you,'' he said, interrupting her, his voice tight. ''I might not have meant to, but I took advantage of you in your fragile state and convinced you to believe the same.''

''Stop it!'' Clary cried, anger flushing her cheeks beneath the hot tears that were now spilling over them. ''You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, whether you believe it or not-''

''Once this is over, and you can have a normal life, you will realize that isn't true.''

''So... You do think that I am making a mistake. You said that you didn't-''

''You didn't let me finish,'' he breathed. ''I was going to say 'Of course not, but that is because I am selfish and stubborn and I don't want it to be true, even when I know deep down inside that it is'.''

Clary grabbed at Jace without thinking, her hands moving of their own volition, but Jace and his reflexes were faster. He turned on the bed, her wrists gripped in the painful vices of his hands, his eyes a stormy, molten gold as he stared up into her face.

She was on her knees, towering over him, but she had never felt smaller than she did in that moment, so unheard and insignificant.

They stayed there for several long, tense moments before Clary forced herself to move away from him. He let her go, turning his back to her again, and he didn't move even when he heard her open the bedroom door and leave.

* * *

Clary didn't bother to turn the light on, just waded through the dark of the living room until she felt the couch against her leg.

She fell down onto it, and fell to pieces a moment later.

Through her despair, she didn't hear the jingling of the lock on the front door, or the hesitant twist of the knob as someone entered the apartment.

It wasn't until Clary could feel the heat of another person in front of her that was she aware of a second presence in the room at all, and she reached her hand up to run her wrist over her face to clear the tears away.

''Jace?''

A chuckle sounded through the room, and terror seized Clary in its merciless grip.

''Not Jace.''

Clary sucked in a sharp breath, recognizing the voice instantly. An overwhelming dread intertwined with the terror in her veins, making her blood run cold.

''Sebastian.''

He didn't answer, but Clary felt the shift in the air as he reached for her.

''Jace!'' she managed to scream, just before her world went black.

* * *

Author's Note: Did Jace get there in time to stop Sebastian? Did Sebastian get away with Clary? Who knows? Well... I know. But you will have to stay tuned! And REVIEW! Reviews are like my fast-forward button!


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Clary smelled pine when she first woke, and she wondered idly how hard Sebastian had struck her to make her senses go so radical. She lived in the city, and there weren't forests for miles outside of their town.

But the smell persisted, and Clary tried to force her eyes open to inspect her surroundings.

Her vision returning was like a switch for her remaining senses, and Clary was suddenly aware of someone's hands at her waist, fumbling with the fly of her jeans.

At first Clary thought it must be Jace, but none of the others dots were connecting in her head. She tried to blink the last stars from her vision, but the light on the ceiling above her head was hurting her eyes, like the first time seeing the sun after a long time in the dark.

She tried to raise herself up, but it made her stomach turn. She fought past the nausea, forcing herself to look down the short expanse of her body to see Sebastian kneeling between her legs, the door of the car they were in open to the crisp night air.

He got the fly of her jeans down and hooked his fingers into the band, starting to pull them down over her hips, but he looked up when he felt the muscles of Clary's legs tense beneath his hands.

He smiled, and as his fingers came loose of her jeans and started to smooth up her waist, she became immediately aware that her shirt was already pushed up to her shoulders and her bra was unfastened.

She grabbed his wrists, stopping their progress up to her chest.

His smile faltered. ''I was patient,'' he told her, his eyes narrowing at her. ''I waited for you for years.''

''Sebastian-''

''And I hear from Jonathon that the sweet, innocent girl that I waited all that time for fucked the first guy that tried to save her? How do you think I felt about that?''

He sighed, not waiting for her to answer, and it was an angry, bitter sound. ''If I knew it was that easy, I would have _rescued_ you a long time ago.''

Clary glared at him. ''You're friends with Jonathon, my father got you out of juvie-''

Sebastian flashed a smile, and it was not friendly. ''Of course Herondale would tell you about that,'' he said. ''You're right though. I am loyal to the bone. I would never have taken you away from them. I would have been with you though, made it easier.''

''Jonathon and father both want to control me,'' she said. ''You would have been no different.''

''You obviously need to be controlled,'' Sebastian snapped. ''You ran off with Herondale! The man that hates your family, that I thought would rather stick a knife in you than his dick, but I suppose I was wrong on that front.''

''Jonathon would never have let you be with me anyway,'' she said. ''Friend or not, your loyalty to Valentine or not, he would never have-''

''You're right,'' Sebastian replied tightly. ''He would rather have you for himself.''

Clary sucked in a sharp breath, his words catching her so off guard in their blatancy that her lungs faltered. Suspecting and knowing something with certainty were two very different things.

''It was disgusting really, watching him take all those girls at Pandemonium who bore even a passing resemblance to you,'' Sebastian said, his lip turning slightly in distaste. ''But it didn't matter really. Your father and I already had a deal, that you would be mine when the time came.''

''You... What?''

''I was trying to do it the right way,'' Sebastian said. ''Tell you my feelings, ask you out, give you space to decide it on your own. But once you ran away, your father gave me permission to just do what I want with you, get you under control by any means necessary before you make things difficult for us.''

Clary was sure that if she kept listening to him talk, she would throw up. She needed to find a way to escape, to get away from Sebastian and run.

The second the word _run_ crossed her mind, her body acted of its own accord.

Clary released one of his hands and swung her fist, catching him in the nose. She instantly wished she'd used her other hand, the one she hadn't used on Jonathon earlier, but the pain was secondary to her satisfaction of watching blood spray out of his nose.

He fell backwards, out of the car, his hands on his face as a string of curses flew from his mouth.

Clary pulled her shirt down and slipped out of the car, starting to run toward the forest, knowing she could lose him in there if he ran after her. Sebastian was a big guy, and she was small and lithe, it wouldn't be hard to lose him in the thick brush.

She screamed when he dove for her and she felt his hand clasp over her ankle, making her fall face first into the dirt that lined the road the car was parked to the side of.

She turned her body so that she could see him as he started to pull her back toward him, and raised her free leg to kick him. He caught her leg with his other hand, his eyes blazing as he looked at her, his smile cracking through the bloody mess that was his lower face.

She cried out as he dragged her body across the dirt and rocks, climbing up her until he was settled on top of her, stealing her breath slowly away from her and trapping her arms beneath his body.

''Even after everything, I was going to be _nice_,'' he seethed, turning his head away from hers to spit blood into the dirt. ''I was going to be _good_ to you.''

''Maybe for the first week or two,'' she breathed. ''Valentine and Jonathon were nice once, too.''

He just reached up and took her chin in his hands, leaning his head down to press his mouth to hers. She kept her lips shut tight, and he dug his fingers into her skin to force her jaw open. Clary gagged at the taste of blood that accompanied his tongue's intrusion into her mouth, and he held tight to her jaw so that she could not bite down on his tongue.

His free hand forced its way between their bodies, up and under her shirt to touch her chest as he pleased. He was rough with her, not caring that he was hurting her, and Clary wished more than anything that it was the gentle, graceful hands that she had just barely started to become accustomed to. She tried to pretend it was Jace touching her, but the memory of him seemed so far, so distant from that moment in time that she couldn't.

When his hand started to venture lower, slipping beneath the open front of her jeans, the last of Clary's breath left her in a choked, horrified cry.

He pulled back to look at her, gasping to reclaim her lost breath, but Clary had something else in mind.

She jerked her head up, into his, and he fell to the side, clutching his forehead and screaming curses at her again.

She blinked past stars as she forced herself up onto her hands and knees, then her feet, and kicked him for good measure. When he grabbed at her again, she evaded his grasping fingers and stepped on his hand, crushing it beneath the heel of her shoe.

She kicked him again, in the head this time, and when he went out cold from the blow, she stumbled back to the car.

* * *

Clary wanted to go straight back to Magnus's house, but she knew it wasn't likely to be safe. Sebastian would send Valentine that way once he woke up, and Clary had to assume he had his phone since she wasn't able to find it anywhere in the car.

She went to Luke's bookstore instead.

She ditched the car at the grocery store down the street and walked the last few blocks, careful to keep to the shadows in case anyone walking on the sidewalks around her worked for her father.

Once she reached the store, her reserve dropped, and she pounded on the glass door hard enough to make the whole frame rattle violently. It was a stupid thing to do, but the horror of what had just happened, of what had just nearly happened, was slowly infecting every cell of her being.

She saw him through the glass and the open blinds as he descended the stairs from his apartment above the bookstore, putting on his glasses and squinting in her direction, toward the door.

When he saw her he blanched, his step faltering in his surprise, before he lurched back into action and crossed the room to her.

He opened the door and caught her as she collapsed, just as the last of the shock left her. He let the door fall shut on its own, reaching up with one arm to lock it while the other cradled her against his chest as she broke down.

The paternal way that he cared for her, tried to soothe her and calm her down the way a father would, only made her cry harder.

She jerked when she heard footsteps descend the staircase at Luke's back, her body tensing to bolt, but he shook his head at her. He helped her to her feet and turned her around to see the people that had joined them.

Her eyes widened as she took in the others staring back at her, equally shocked expressions on each one of their faces. It was only for a moment before they all ran across the room to her, even Magnus, touching her and hugging her and overwhelming her with questions. All except Jace, who stayed back by the stairs and wouldn't look in her direction.

Distantly, Clary heard Luke behind her closing the blinds, to keep unwanted eyes from seeing her and the scene.

Clary let each one of her friends hug her, appreciating their care, before it became too much for her and she asked to be left alone. She felt sick, and dirty, and a big part of her just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for a while until all of the bad feelings passed.

Luke gave her instructions to the bathroom so that she could clean up, and he told her he would be waiting for her afterward to show her to the room she would be sharing with Isabelle so that she could get some sleep.

''I'll explain what happened in the morning,'' she said quietly, trying to give them a reassuring smile as they stared after her with concerned expressions, before crossing the floor to the stairs.

Jace didn't say anything as she passed him, and she silently ascended up the stairs to the apartment and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her.

* * *

When she pulled the door back open a short while later, after cleaning off the dirt and blood in the shower, she stopped dead in the doorway.

It wasn't Luke that was waiting for her, but Jace.

He was leaning casually against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets and his head resting back against the wall, his eyes closed off to her and the world. There was a dark bruise over his temple, marring his beautiful face, much worse than the one Jonathon had left after their altercation at the Lightwood house.

He opened his eyes when he heard her step out of the bathroom, turning the molten pools of gold to her, and she walked past him to find the room she was supposed to share with Isabelle on her own.

''Wrong way,'' he said lightly, stepping away from with wall and motioning for her to follow him.

He opened a door at the opposite end of the hall, and Clary reluctantly crossed the floor and entered, turning to shut the door behind her. He did not remove his hand, and Clary turned to see that the bed was empty and Isabelle was nowhere to be seen.

''I'm not staying in here with you,'' she said tightly.

''You're angry with me.''

She just glared at him, a silent answer.

Jace narrowed his eyes back at her. ''I didn't mean to let him get away with you. Fuck, Clary, Sebastian was waiting for me with a baseball bat,'' he growled. ''I would never, _ever_ have let him walk out of there with you-''

He cut off when she started to laugh. This, of course, only made him more angry.

''Care to let me in on the joke?'' he asked. ''I let you leave our room. You think I haven't felt like the worst person on this whole fucking planet for each and every second you were gone? It was only four hours, Clary, but so much can happen in a single _minute_, I can't even fathom the things he managed to do to you in four _hours_-''

''I'm laughing because you think that's why I'm mad at you,'' she said, sobering. ''I knew you would have come after me. I knew you wouldn't just let someone take me. I was mad at you before that, and I still screamed for _you_.''

Jace swallowed hard, saying nothing.

''Do you want to know why?'' she asked. She didn't wait for him to answer, just continued. ''Because everything you've done for me, you've done of your own accord. And the one thing I have actually asked for, that I truly want from you, you won't give me. It's irony at its finest.''

''And what is that?'' he asked quietly. ''Me?''

''Yes.''

He just shook his head.

''You are so convinced that you don't deserve me. Because you think you are ruined and dirty, right?'' she asked him, her voice as cold and harsh as ice. ''Well, congratulations, I'm in that boat with you now.''

Jace's eyes widened in horror. He shut the door harshly to the room, before spinning around to face her, his face blanched completely of color and his eyes blazing. ''He-''

She shook her head, swallowing hard. ''No,'' she said quickly. ''No. He tried, but I managed to get away before he could do any... significant damage.''

Jace ran a hand through his hair. ''But he... He touched you?''

Clary said nothing, just pressed her lips into a tight line.

Jace leaned against the closed door heavily and ran his hands over his face, pausing with his fingers at his lips, his eyes wide and swirling with emotions that he was processing too fast for Clary to identify them herself.

''Does it change how you feel about me?''

Jace's head snapped in her direction. He narrowed his eyes at her, anger for her blossoming in red across his cheeks and his expression. ''Don't be ridiculous,'' he growled. ''Clary-''

''Then why do you think it makes a difference for me?'' she asked him quietly.

Jace was silent.

Clary felt her eyes water, and she looked away from him, hoping he wouldn't see. ''He told me a lot of things that... I don't know how I feel about. And him forcing himself on me...'' she paused, swallowing hard.

''I feel disgusting, Jace. And I want to crawl under the covers and decide if I ever want to crawl back out of them again. And I want to cry and get out all the terrible things that I'm feeling so that when I wake up in the morning and drag myself out of bed, we can go back to searching for the evidence my mother may or may not have even left behind or something else we can use against my father.''

She turned her back to him and crossed the room to the bed.

''I'm not going to let you leave my sight again, so I guess whether or not I deserve you doesn't _really_ matter.''

Clary startled and looked back at him.

This time when he met her eyes, every bit of the person he had been in the room at Magnus's apartment was gone, and she felt part of the ache in her chest lessen.

''You're stuck with me, Red,'' he continued lightly. ''And there is no way this bed or any in the future will fit the person that does deserve you along with the both of us.''

Clary couldn't help the bubble of happy laughter that forced its way from her throat, but it was the last of the night. Jace held her in the warm circle of her arms for the long, hard hours afterward, whispering sweet nothings into her ear until her tears ran dry and she fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

Author's Note: Please REVIEW! I hope they are nice. I don't even know how I feel about this chapter, I hope you guys do.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Clary opened her emerald eyes the next morning to molten gold ones only a few inches from her own, and a guilty smile lit Jace's face as she caught him watching her sleep.

He reached his hand up to cradle her cheek, his thumb rubbing the tender, swollen skin under her eye that was the result of crying for most of the night before. The gesture was soft, and sweet, and he closed the short distance between them to press his forehead to hers.

The light shone in from the morning sun, making his hair shine brightly. It was such a peaceful moment, such a peaceful sight, that Clary never wanted it to end.

She closed the last of the space, pressing her lips chastely to his. She sighed against his mouth, slipping her hand over his waist and up his muscled back, wanting him closer. His skin was almost feverish beneath her fingers, with a fine sheen of sweat beaded along his spine.

Jace obliged, pressing against her until she was on her back and he was above her. It was a sight that should have elicited her anticipation, her excitement, but it brought with it a flash of a memory instead, of Sebastian towering over her.

The warm happiness she'd felt a moment before dissipated just as quickly as the image had appeared, and Jace froze above her, feeling her tense beneath him and her breath catch in her throat.

''It's okay,'' he said quickly, his eyes wide. He moved off to the side of her, gently reaching down to take her hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. ''It's okay.''

Clary let the breath she'd been holding out, nodding slowly, forcing her body to relax. After a long moment, she turned her head to the side to look at him. ''I'm sorry...''

''No,'' he said, shaking his head. ''I should have known there would be some residual... I should have known better.''

''But... You're...'' Clary broke off, her gaze falling lower down his body.

Jace chuckled, and it was a deep, masculine sound. ''Clary, darling, I am like that every morning,'' he mused. ''Don't feel bad. It's a guy thing.''

Clary's eyes widened at this revelation. She thought about all the times Jonathon had slept in bed with her, stayed the night with her, and she tasted bile as the truth Sebastian had exposed about him ran through her head.

''Stop,'' Jace said to her, sharply enough to startle her.

He reached up and cradled her face gently between his hands, his thumbs moving under both of her eyes this time. ''Stay here with me,'' he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. ''Just for a little while. I know there are a lot of terrible things running around in that head of yours that need to be addressed, but stay with me just for a bit longer right here.''

Clary nodded hesitantly, and Jace leaned forward to press his lips reassuringly to hers.

Clary pulled back from the kiss to look at him, wondering how such a person existed. She had a quick stab of fear that she was dreaming all of it, and that at any moment she would wake up and be back at home, under her father's hand.

But her fear was irrational, and it faded the longer she stared at Jace.

''You were gone again,'' Jace said quietly. ''In your head.''

''I was thinking you are too good to be true,'' she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He smiled gently at her, but it faltered. ''That is my line,'' he told her, his eyes soft. ''You are so beautiful...''

''I'm beautiful?'' she mused. ''You must have looked in a mirror before now. I would kill to paint you-''

Clary jerked up in the bed, and the covers fell from her chest and gathered in a pool at her waist. Jace sat up slowly beside her, his mouth open to ask her what was wrong, but she was already scrambling out of the bed and making for the door.

* * *

Jace made a sound in his throat, untangling himself from the sheets as fast as he could and making out the door after her. He caught sight of her hair disappearing down the staircase to the first floor, but she was more nimble than him and he quickly lost sight of her again.

He caught up to her in the basement, where she was shoving aside boxes to get to a bunch of canvases that lined the back wall.

''Clary?'' Jace asked, coming to a stop a few feet behind her. ''What are you doing?''

''My mother's paintings,'' Clary said, her voice breathless. ''I should have known.''

''Known what?'' he asked, walking up slowly to stand beside her, gently lifting a heavy box from her arms that she was struggling with and setting it aside.

Without answering, she kicked the last of the boxes aside and fell to her knees on the floor. She started to inspect each canvas, her hands running over the thick oil splashes of paint.

''If I were to hide something, I would hide it somewhere my father wouldn't think to look,'' she explained quickly. ''Even when my mother was alive, he had little interest in her paintings.''

''You think she hid it inside a painting,'' he said, making the words a statement rather than a question.

Clary didn't answer, just started to cast canvas after canvas aside as she searched them and came up with nothing. The further she got into them the more frustrated she was becoming, and Jace could see the anger building with each jagged movement of her body.

''Clary.''

She didn't react to the sound of his voice, or even when she felt him kneel on the floor behind her. He didn't touch her until she had inspected and discarded the last canvas and she fell in upon herself in despair.

Jace wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss into the side of her neck.

''I really thought...''

''I know,'' Jace said, his voice gentle. ''I know. It was a good idea, but you will have more. Something will come up, Clary. I promise it will, and we will be out of this mess.''

''I was so certain,'' she mumbled stubbornly, but still she relaxed in Jace's arms and sighed when he pressed a second kiss to her temple.

''Let's go back upstairs,'' he said, pulling her up with him as he got to his feet. She nodded distantly, disappointment weighing heavily on her shoulders. ''The others might wake soon, and I don't want them to worry.''

Just as they reached the bottom step, Jace froze, and Clary hesitantly stopped beside him. ''Jace?'' she asked.

He nodded his head to the side of the room, and Clary followed the direction. He watched her eyes light up again, and her hand fell from his as she skirted across the floor and her hands clasped over the edge of the singular canvas that was peaking out from behind another bunch of boxes.

Clary's breath caught when she pulled it free, emotion making her throat tight and her eyes well with tears.

The painting was a portrait of her family, a copy of one Clary remembered posing for a long time before.

Valentine and Jocelyn sat on chairs at the center of the canvas, and Clary's eyes took in the sight of her mother, something she had not seen since her mother had passed away. Valentine had taken down all of the pictures of her in the house, stashed them away in a safe in his room.

Her fiery red hair was elegantly styled and fell over her shoulders in waves, and she looked more beautiful than Clary could ever hope to be in a green satin dress that billowed to the floor.

Valentine looked like he always did, handsome and stern and mean, crisp in a black suit and tie. Jonathon stood at his back in a matching suit, and Clary behind Jocelyn in a matching green dress. It was unflattering on her small, lanky eight-year-old frame.

''I understand why Luke kept it apart from the others,'' Jace said quietly. ''The other paintings were probably hard enough to see, but to actually see her face...''

Jace trailed off, and Clary did not reply, still mesmerized by the picture.

''It looks like a photograph,'' Jace muttered quietly from over her shoulder, reaching forward to run his fingers over the dried oils, his fingers moving over Clary's dress. Clary felt him tense behind her, his fingers freezing against the canvas. ''Clary... There is a crease here.''

Clary silently reached forward, and Jace guided her hand with his own, running her fingers over the place on the canvas where he had felt it.

''That's what you were looking for before, right?''

Clary gasped when she felt it, and ran her hand along the rest of the picture, feeling for the other seams. She laughed, a surprised, happy sound, when she figured the dimensions of the papers beneath the paint.

''We have to bring this up to the apartment,'' Jace said. ''We need to open it and show it to the others.''

Clary nodded absently, hugging the canvas to her chest. She let Jace's hands on her shoulders lead her toward the stairs.

* * *

Clary made a strangled sound, stopping dead on the top stair, and Jace nearly ran into her, barely managing to kill his momentum on the step behind her. ''Clary-''

''Great,'' a voice sounded. ''You are both here. That saves us time.''

Jace pushed past Clary, one arm lagging behind his body to keep her back and hidden behind him as he stepped out of the basement doorway and came face to face with Jonathon and Sebastian.

The pair were standing in the middle of the bookstore, Jonathon with his phone to his ear. ''Yeah,'' he said into the receiver. ''She's here. I'm glad you thought to send us here to check the place over again. See you in a few, father.''

Clary's blood ran cold in her veins, and when she felt Jace tense to fight, she grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his skin to stop him.

''Clarissa, always stepping in where she doesn't belong,'' Jonathon sneered, his eyes on her hand. His attention flickered up to Jace's face, his sneer turning into a smirk. ''I can't wait for this to be finished between us. I won't let her stop me again.''

''Happy to oblige,'' Jace replied caustically, shaking off Clary's hand and stepping forward.

''Clary,'' Sebastian sang, looking past Jace and waving a hand teasingly in her direction. ''While Jonathon takes care of your boyfriend, I think we ought to finish where we left off earlier.''

''What?'' she asked, setting down the canvas on the stair behind her. ''Me kicking your ass again?''

Jace looked away from Jonathon, his eyes skimming over Sebastian. His nose was bruised and crooked, having not been set immediately after the break, and his eyes were bruised around it. There was another bruise on his head where Clary had kicked him, and likely a matching one under his shirt, though Clary hoped never to see it.

''You did that?'' Jace asked Clary, his voice breathless.

She swallowed nervously. ''Yes.''

''I love you.''

Clary made a startled sound, looking away from Jonathon and Sebastian, to Jace instead. ''You... What?''

''We'll talk about it later,'' he said dismissively. ''But I am undeniably, irrevocably in love with you.''

Clary felt her cheeks flush, and she couldn't help the smile that forced its way onto her lips despite the situation.

''Go ahead and smile,'' Sebastian spat. ''Let's see if you ever do again after I'm through with you.''

Clary looked to Jonathon in silent hope that he would object, that he would keep her safe from Sebastian and what he intended to do to her, but he just shook his head at her, his black eyes empty.

Jace started to go for Sebastian, to make him pay for the threat, but Jonathon intercepted him. They fell to the floor, a blur of white and gold and black.

Clary sobered immediately when Sebastian made for her, her body tensing in anticipation, but he never reached her, not really.

''Clary!'' Jace yelled. ''Move!''

Clary plastered herself to the wall at her back, just in time to see Jace kick Jonathon back and off of him and into the back of Sebastian's legs as he was running across the room for her.

Jonathon fell into a heap on the floor, but the impact propelled Sebastian forward, too fast and too hard for him to stop his own momentum.

He went head first through the open doorway and down the stairs.

Sebastian was knocked out cold immediately, but his body kept moving, sickening crunch after sickening crunch sounding as it made the descent to the basement floor.

Jonathon let out an angry cry, lunging for Jace, and Clary could hear sirens sounding in the distance.

''Luke!'' she screamed. ''Luke!''

She heard footsteps above her head as the others ran to answer her cry. She leaped at the bundle of limbs on the floor, grabbing at Jonathon to get him away from Jace, wanting to break it up so that they could make a run for it.

Jonathon grabbed her and threw her like a rag doll across the room, in the direction of one of the bookshelves. Due to his bad arm, she didn't directly hit the towering structure, but she rolled with enough momentum to strike it firmly at its base.

Clary wasn't able to raise her arms up to cover her head in time or protect herself before the books and the shelf came raining down on her.

* * *

When Clary woke, she had to blink past stars before she registered Jace's face leaning above hers. The world was vibrating beneath her, and the rumbling of the car engine grew louder as the last of the cloudiness faded away.

''Jace...?''

He leaned down, pressing a kiss firmly to her mouth, and she made a small, pleased sound when he made to deepen it. His tongue pressed against her lips, and she parted them for him, giving him entrance to her mouth.

He pulled away when several other people around them loudly complained at the affection. When he drew back and she could see his face, it wasn't happy or amused as it should have been.

''What was that for?'' Clary asked softly. She tried to sit up, but Jace gently pressed his hand to her shoulder, keeping her where she was on his lap. ''Jace, what-?''

''I just wanted one last kiss before you decide you hate me and don't ever want me to touch you again,'' Jace said, and though the words were said lightly, his expression was serious.

''What happened?'' she asked, pushing his hand away to sit up. She fought past a wave of nausea as she did, and turned her body so that she was no longer stretched across Simon's and Isabelle's laps in the backseat of the car.

It didn't take her long to realize what was wrong, and Jace gave her the moment to figure it out on her own.

Magnus and Alec were in the front seat, and the four of them were in the back. That left one person missing from their entourage, and Clary turned to look at Jace.

''Where's Luke?''

Jace said nothing, just pressed his lips into a tight, grave line.

''Jace, where is he?'' she demanded.

''We left him behind,'' Jace told her, his face blanching as if the truth was dawning on him for the first time, too. ''Valentine showed up with four squad cars worth of cops, and Luke stayed behind to distract them while we left out the back door.''

Clary leaned back against the seat, her head falling back to look at the ceiling, feeling numb.

''I got the painting,'' Jace told her. ''If those papers are what we need them to be, he will walk free.''

''And if they're not?'' she asked, her voice dead.

''Then we keep looking,'' Isabelle supplied, when Jace failed to answer. ''We're going to ditch the car in a bit and find a cheap motel room to hide out in until the town calms down and we can go back.''

Clary turned her head to look at her. ''We not only left Luke behind in the store, but we left town completely?''

''It's too dangerous there,'' Simon replied. ''But we will go back soon, one way or another, with or without the evidence. We haven't abandoned him.''

Clary said nothing, just looked back to the ceiling. Jace took her hand in his, trying to be comforting, but when her fingers remained limp in his own, he removed his hand and didn't try to touch her again.

The rest of the drive passed in tense, uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry I am posting so late. I was kind of stumped on this chapter, but I am pretty happy with the result. Anyway, stay tuned, the story is drawing to an end. Keep reading and REVIEWING!


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

They passed by a cheap motel on the outskirts of a neighboring town, ditched the car in the middle of a busy shopping center in the middle of the town, and walked back to the motel to get a room.

They paid cash at the front desk, and the guy did not ask any questions, just handed them the keys to a room.

''This is disgusting,'' Isabelle whined as they pushed open the door and surveyed the room.

''Let's hope that if Valentine decides to search this town, he is aware of your high standards and preferences,'' Jace replied caustically, moving past her and into the room, dropping the bags he was carrying on the nearest bed. ''We would be safe then.''

Isabelle just stuck her tongue out at his back.

''This is a lot better than the conditions in juvie,'' Jace said offhandedly, walking further into the room. He ran his fingers over the wooden desk that sat along the wall, his eyes distractedly moving about the walls.

''I don't know about that,'' Magnus mused, stepping inside the room after him. ''All of your boyfriends treated you pretty nice there. Extra pillows, extra blankets, extra bars of soap for you to drop...''

Jace looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at him.

Magnus just smiled innocently back.

Alec bumped roughly into him as he passed by to drop the remaining bags on the second bed, and Magnus gave a genuine smile to his back, finding the little moment of jealousy cute.

Clary entered the room last on Simon's heel, the painting clutched carefully against her chest. Her face was ghostly and drawn, her expression completely void of any emotion.

Jace started to go to her, but he saw that her hand was clenching Simon's so tightly that the skin around her fingers was blanched white and his steps faltered. His heart fell to his stomach, and he busied himself with setting up the cot that was folded up in the closet for the couple that would not fit in the two beds.

''Clary,'' he heard Isabelle say carefully, as if she was worried she would startle her. ''We should see what is in the painting.''

Clary nodded slowly in response and sat down on the edge of the nearest bed, the canvas over her lap. Alec approached her with his hand out, and the flourescent light shown on the metal of the pocketknife he held in his palm.

She reached for it, and her hand was noticeably trembling. The tension in the air was nearly palpable, and the weight of the world was now resting on her shoulders and the revelation of what the painting held.

''Take your time, Red,'' Jace said, his voice barely a whisper by the time it crossed the room to her. She nodded distantly, her fingers feeling along the canvas for the edges of the papers beneath it, but her whole body was numb and it took her a moment to find it.

''I know you care for her Jace. I know this is hard for her,'' Isabelle said. ''But we need to do this quickly. If it is the evidence, we need to contact your people and-''

''Isabelle,'' Alec snapped. ''She knows the gravidity of it. Give her a moment. Can't you see how she's shaking-?''

''She's right,'' Clary said, silencing him gently, and without a moment's more hesitation, she dragged the knife across the canvas.

Jace winced at the sound of the canvas crying beneath the blade, but Clary remained unaffected. Once she skimmed the borders of the papers, she slipped her small fingertips beneath the top edge and pulled it free from the canvas.

The papers came free in the form of a manila envelope. It left a gaping, blank space of canvas in its wake. The portrait stayed intact on the surface of the envelope, and Clary flipped it over to pull open the back tab that enclosed the papers.

The room grew eerily silent as she started to unsheath the papers, and she realized it was because everyone was holding their breaths as they waited for the imminent revelation.

It wasn't until they were halfway revealed that she realized what they were, and she felt tears burn in her eyes.

She tucked them back inside, her lips pressed into a grim line. ''They aren't anything that will help.''

She could feel the disappointment eating at her from all directions, all except for one.

Jace came to sit down beside her on the bed, his leg folded beneath his body so that he was angled toward her, his hand skimming comfortingly over her thigh. He trailed the hand up to hook a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face up to his.

''Are you alright?''

Clary tried to blink away the tears in her eyes, but she only succeeded in making them fall over the rims and down her cheeks. ''They were adoption papers,'' she said quietly. ''For me.''

''Adoption papers?'' Simon questioned carefully.

''My mother had them filled out, ready for when Valentine was gone,'' Clary said. ''All they were missing were signatures from...''

''From...?'' Jace asked. But before she could answer, it dawned on him. He tasted bile on his tongue, and his heart dropped to his stomach. ''Luke.''

Clary nodded slowly.

Jace's displease was curbed slightly when she leaned over and rested her cheek on his shoulder, her breath shallow and warm on his neck. He encircled one arm around her shoulders, the other gently stroking her hair. He heard her sniffle once, but otherwise she was quiet, silently grieving the loss of the future she should have had.

But as quickly it had gone, the displeasure returned when she pulled away from him a short while later.

She wiped her face clean, standing up from the bed. ''We need to brainstorm ideas,'' she said, her voice surprisingly strong. ''We need to figure out our next move.''

Everyone agreed, and after Clary put a cold distance between her and Jace on the bed, they began.

* * *

That night, after many hours of brainstorming, they set aside their list of possibilities to get some sleep.

Isabelle and Simon took one of the beds, and Magnus and Alec the other. Jace assumed it was their subtle way of forcing him and Clary together, onto the confined space of the cot.

After Clary changed in the bathroom, she passed by Jace as he brushed his teeth at the sink and slipped beneath the blanket he'd set over the cot earlier that morning. He watched her silently as she moved to the very edge of it, her back to the space he would soon occupy.

He sighed and finished brushing his teeth, walking slowly over to the cot and sitting on the edge of it. He took a deep breath to curb his anxiety, before settling under the blanket at her back.

He reached forward, to touch her back, and he felt her whole body tense beneath his fingers. He felt his heart stumble in his chest, remembering what he'd said to her in the car.

_''I just wanted one last kiss before you decide you hate me and don't ever want me to touch you again.''_

He knew she would be mad that they left Luke behind. He had expected this reaction from her, and yet he still felt the sting of her rejection like a fresh slap in the face.

He withdrew his hand, but stayed facing her, hoping at some point in the night she would turn toward him and let him hold her.

It took him a long time to fall asleep, his heart racing with each small move she made, but when he did, it was with a heavy heart.

* * *

Jace woke up early the next morning to find his arms still empty. He felt cold, despite the comfortable warmth of the room. Clary still had her back to him, but there was a tension in her body that betrayed her consciousness.

He slowly sat up on the cot, running a hand through his hair. He was surprised to find that the others were all awake as well, moving about the room.

Magnus caught his eye, his expression one of sympathy as if he felt the distance between Jace and Clary himself.

''What are we supposed to do now?'' Isabelle asked a few minutes later, once it was obvious that everyone was awake. Clary had freed herself from the blanket to sit on the edge of one of the beds beside Simon, her face still pale and drawn.

''Why don't we make a food run?'' Magnus suggested, eyeing the glassy-eyed redhead. ''I am famished.''

''But we just did that yesterday-'' Isabelle started, but one sharp look from Alec silenced her.

''I think that would be good. It doesn't hurt to have extra supplies in case we have to move again,'' Alec said quickly. He looked to his friend, still sitting dejectedly on the edge of the cot. ''Jace, why don't you stay here with Clary? Keep her safe.''

Jace nodded absently, his eyes on the floor.

''We'll be gone about an hour. Just an _hour_,'' Magnus stressed as they started for the door, giving Jace a pointed look. Jace glared at him, surprised he didn't just come out and say it directly, since his implications were obvious.

Magnus just winked at him before closing the door securely behind him and the others, leaving Jace and Clary alone.

* * *

''That was kind of them, to give us some time alone.''

Jace startled, looking up at her from his place on the cot. He had thought she'd been too far away in her head to understand what had just transpired.

''We do not have to-'' Jace started, but his words were cut short as Clary crossed the room in a flash and covered his mouth with hers, her lips warm and soft and adamant against his.

Jace moaned against her lips, let Clary push him back and flat onto the cot, her small body a welcome weight pressing him into the thin mattress of it.

She broke away from his body, sitting up on top of him and straddling his waist. She was so focused, so determined, that he hated to break the moment, but he found he couldn't stop himself.

''Clary.''

She reached beneath her body to unfasten his jeans, dragging down the zipper roughly. Jace sucked in sharp breath.

''Clary.''

She turned her emerald green eyes to him. He saw many things swirling in the vibrant pools, but anger was the most prevalent. ''I am upset,'' she growled. ''And frustrated. I don't want to fight. I just need a distraction.''

She slipped off of him, and he went up to his elbows, watching as she hooked her fingers in the waist of her jeans and shimmied them down the length of her legs. She shed her jacket next, standing before him in only her tank top, bra, and underwear.

Jace hated how much he was reacting to her anger, to seeing her so wild and unhinged.

She went back to straddling his waist, scratching his skin with her nails as she pushed aside his boxers and freed his erection from the cage of his jeans.

No hesitation, no preparation, Jace watched with hooded eyes as she pulled aside her soft cotton underwear and started to ease herself onto him.

Jace grabbed her hips in his hands, trying to help guide her over him, but she smacked them away. He understood that she wanted to work out her frustrations on her own, and he let her use him to do it, happy to be there for her, happy to have her touching him again.

He rested his hands on her knees, a passive presence, sighing contentedly when he was fully sheathed inside of her.

She started to rock her hips, a faster, rougher version of what they had done together in the bathroom at Magnus's apartment. As good as it felt, Jace saw Clary's hard reserve crumbling with each thrust, and he waited patiently for her to finally break.

It took only a few minutes of their violent coupling before she did, and Jace reached up to pull her down against his chest, his heart aching with each sob that racked through her body.

He gently rolled them over until he was a heavy presence above her, and he rested the majority of his weight on his arms so that he could stare down into her tear-streaked face.

''It's going to be okay,'' he told her. ''We will fix everything that has been broken. I promise.''

He started to move off of her, his body falling out of her despite its excited state, but to his surprise, Clary pulled him back. He made a noise in his throat, and she echoed it with her own as he slid back inside of her.

''Are you sure?'' he asked her hesitantly. ''We don't have to...''

But the look in her eye said it all, told him how much she needed this escape, this moment of calm.

He was happy to oblige her.

He moved over her slowly, more gentle even than their first time together, because it wasn't about pleasure or their need for each other, only her need for comfort and his ability to give it to her.

When the others returned, they were fully clothed again, Jace sitting up with Clary's head in his lap, languidly stroking her hair. Her eyes were closed and her breathing even, fast asleep, the circles under her eyes standing out against her fair skin.

He looked up at Magnus and mouthed ''thank you'', before returning his attention to the beautiful girl in his lap.

She opened her eyes slowly as the others settled in the room, their presence there waking her. She looked up at Jace and something in her face was different, changed. There was a gleam in her eyes that had been absent since the ride in the car.

''What is it, Clary?'' he asked her in a whisper.

''I was right,'' she said, her voice raspy from sleep. ''I was right about the paintings.''

''What do you mean?'' Alec asked, moving to stand beside the cot. The others drew near as well, but Clary didn't see them, just the gold of Jace's eyes.

''There was one my father didn't destroy,'' she explained slowly. ''She knew if he found them, he would burn them. She gave them to Luke to protect, but even then she wasn't sure they would be safe. But there was one she knew Valentine was too vain to destroy. It was the safest place to hide it.''

''Where?'' Simon pressed, his hand squeezing Isabelle's tightly.

Clary swallowed hard, her face contorting slightly in fear.

''Home.''

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the short hiatus of the story, I was out of town and super busy. But I am back now and will be updating regularly again. Please continue reading, and as always, REVIEWING! You guys have been amazingly awesome and encouraging.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Clary felt Jace's hand tighten around hers, and it was so silent in the room around her that she could hear her blood rushing through her veins. They stood in Valentine's room, facing the painting they had come for.

They'd left almost immediately for her house after she'd had the realization in the hotel room, wanting to catch it empty while her father was at work and Jonathon would be in school.

Before them was a portrait of her father that her mother had painted. Clary had only been in his room once after her mother died, when she was twelve, and Valentine had shut her in the basement for two days after he'd caught her there.

''He actually looks kind,'' Clary said, reaching forward to run her fingers over the rough canvas.

Jace could not disagree with her. It was a portrait of Valentine when her mother had first met him, when his face was free of the hard lines of his anger and cruelty. His eyes, though dark in color, were friendly and bright as day in sentiment.

''I've never seen him like this,'' Clary said, her hand falling away.

''I don't think there is anything like this left in him,'' Jace replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. He reached forward and pulled the canvas off of the wall. He held it out to Clary, and she ran her hands over it again.

''It's here,'' she said, but by her tone he could tell she was not surprised. The moment she'd remembered the portrait, she knew without a doubt that it was exactly where her mother would've put it. Her mother was always one for irony.

What could be more ironic than a man such as Valentine looking upon his demise every morning when he woke and every night before he went to sleep?

Clary pulled Alec's knife out of her back pocket and slashed at the canvas, freeing the papers from the portrait. She tucked the knife away again and hooked her fingers under the cut edges.

When she pulled the papers free, Jace changed his hold on the backing of the canvas to accomodate the change, and his fingers brushed over an anomoly.

''There's something else here,'' he said, his brow furrowing as he turned the canvas over in his hands. It took him a moment to find it again, as he found the anomoly was covered in a strip of tape that was painted to resemble the wood it was stuck to.

When he pulled it free and discarded the tape, he turned the device over in his hands.

''A flash drive,'' Jace said, mostly to himself, as Clary was busy reading through the papers in her hands. It was a long moment before she replied.

''Jace... These are audio transcriptions, time-stamped and everything. The audio files are probably on that flash drive,'' Clary said, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. ''There are also documents, bank statements of withdrawals and the copies of the checks he wrote. It says here, according to the audio, they were to bribe people to stay quiet about what happened, and to pay people to get rid of the car and the other evidence that would have pointed to Valentine...''

A slow smile found its way onto Jace's lips, and he put a hand to the back of Clary's head to pull it to his lips. He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple, his breath warm on her face.

''I would not be too quick to celebrate your victory.''

* * *

Clary let out a shriek, and in an instant Jace had her swept behind him. Both of them turned toward the doorway where the voice had come from, and came face to face with Valentine.

Valentine stood before them in his police issue uniform, a smug expression on his face, and Clary nervously eyed the gun and baton she saw strapped at his waist.

''I suppose on some level I should not be surprised,'' Valentine said, his eyes on Jace. ''It is every father's worst fear to come home early from work to find his daughter alone with a boy, and fears often come true.''

''In your case, I would think your fears are much worse than that,'' Jace replied. ''You never struck me as much of a concerned father anyway.''

With Jace's hand still behind him, on Clary, Jace slipped the flash drive into the front pocket of her jeans, the action concealed from Valentine's sight. He stepped away from her, putting himself closer to the danger.

Jace felt Clary's fingers grasp the back of his shirt, trying to stop him, but she was too frightened to follow him as he moved forward again and out of her reach.

''I thank you for finding that for me,'' Valentine said, his eyes flickering past Jace, to Clary. ''Your mother was a complex puzzle that I was never quite able to solve.''

''Luke did.''

A muscle twitched in Valentine's jaw, but he did not comment on what she had said, just brushed it aside like he would a fly. ''It is good to see you back where you belong, my daughter,'' he continued, forcing the sentiment in his tone. ''It is good to see you back home.''

''This hasn't been my home for a long time,'' Clary replied, her voice surprisingly steady.

''Let me guess,'' Valentine said, his eyes moving back to Jace. ''You've found one with him?''

Clary said nothing, but it was enough of an answer for him.

''She might not have realized her mistake, but you see it,'' Valentine taunted, his words now directed at Jace. ''Don't you?''

Jace said nothing, but Clary could feel the tension coming off of him in waves.

''Her mother fell for the bad boy, too,'' Valentine continued, the words light but edged with a bite. ''But she was too soft for me, too weak to handle all that the future she chose entailed. Clary is too much like her mother to stay by your side forever, to handle the violence in your nature. Like me, you will lose her to someone just as weak-hearted as she is-''

''I'm not like you,'' Jace cut in, his voice ice. ''And Clary is far from weak. You made that mistake once with her mother, and if I were you, I would be careful not to make it again.''

''You lost mother because you're a terrible person,'' Clary said, moving forward to stand at Jace's side. ''Jace is a good person that has been through terrible things. There's a difference.''

''Are you so certain?'' Valentine mused.

He took a step forward, his hand slowly going to his belt and unfastening the button that held his gun in its holster, and Clary tasted bile in her mouth. Dread swirled in her stomach, knowing what was coming next.

''Clary,'' Jace said. ''When I say so, I want you to run.''

''I'm not leaving you here with him,'' she replied adamantly.

''I wasn't asking,'' he snapped, his eyes watching Valentine like a hawk. He put his hand on her shoulder and shoved her out of his way, to the bed, just as Valentine started to withdraw his gun.

Jace was on him in a flash, tackling him to the ground.

''Run!'' Jace shouted, daring a glance over his shoulder at her. ''Now!''

And she did.

* * *

But she didn't get far.

Hands grabbed her at the base of the stairs, and she screamed as she was dragged blindly toward the kitchen. She was tossed into the kitchen chair, face first, and her head cracked against the base, making her world spin.

She stumbled to the ground, disoriented, her face warming as blood began to stream down it from the split skin at her brow.

Hands wrapped in the back of her shirt. She was lifted up and deposited into the chair again, this time the right way, and she grunted as her back slammed against the back of the chair.

Clary had to blink past blood to see Jonathon standing before her, and still disoriented, she tried to fight him off as he started to secure her with rope to the chair.

She was unsuccessful, and in a matter of seconds, he had each of her legs fastened to the front legs of the chair and her arms and trunk secured to the back of the chair by a length of rope wrapped several times around her stomach above the bends of her elbows.

Clary spit blood at him, but he did not even flinch, staring down at her with his cruel, black eyes.

''That bastard put Sebastain in a coma,'' Jonathon snarled at her, jerking his head toward the stairs. ''Are you listening for the gunshot? Because I am. Father is going to blow his brains all over the floor-''

''Sebastian deserved it,'' Clary said, swallowing the bile that had gathered in her mouth in response to his words. ''I hope he never wakes up.''

Jonathon's eyes narrowed at her, and he went to the kitchen island, opening a drawer and withdrawing something from it.

Clary's heartbeat choked in her throat when she saw the gleam of the light on the metal of the knife.

But it calmed the next moment as she remembered that she had a knife of her own, tucked away in her back pocket. Pretending to struggle against her bindings, she maneuvered her hand around and into the fabric of her jeans, keeping her face blank despite the satisfaction of feeling her fingers wrap around the metal.

Jonathon crossed around the counter again and held the knife toward her, the point too close to her face. ''You did some pretty nasty damage to him yourself,'' Jonathon said conversationally. ''I hate to encourage such violence from you, but I was rather proud.''

''He tried to rape me.''

Surprise flickered over his face briefly, along with a healthy dose of anger, before he shoved both feelings down again.

''He told me some things about you,'' Clary said, hoping to disarm him, to distract him as she opened the blade of her knife and started blindly sawing at the bindings around her stomach from behind.

''Did he?'' Jonathon asked, and to Clary's dismay, he did not seem even remotely flustered. ''That's good. It means I don't have to pretend anymore.''

Clary swallowed hard, her fear spiking as he brought the knife down to her chest. Her breathing was shallow, irregular, and she fought her best to calm it. Each rise dug the tip of the knife into her skin.

He brought it down and Clary hissed as it traced a line vertically down her chest, until the blade reached the collar of her tank top. He reached forward, and Clary's stomach turned as he tucked his fingers under the fabric and held it as he slashed down the front of her shirt with the knife, tearing the fabric in half to the ropes at her waist.

Clary felt part of the rope give at her back as she sawed away at it, but her relief was drowned out by her disgust as Jonathon went to his knees in front of her and his face lowered to her chest.

He kept a firm hold on his knife with one hand while the other raised to slip beneath her cut shirt and cup her breast through the fabric of her bra. His mouth went to her other breast, and when his tongue darted out and slipped beneath the cup, she thought she would die.

His hand left her breast to go to her jeans, his fingers pulling the button free and easing down her zipper in the blink of an eye.

''Why?'' she asked, her voice trembling, hoping to distract him.

Jonathon's hand stilled and he moved away from her breast to look into her eyes. ''We were made for each other,'' he said simply, as if those few words explained everything.

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. She tried to move back, move away, but he followed her, his mouth a relentless presence on hers, stealing her breath away. He was mean, vicious, nothing like the sweetness that she'd grown accustomed to from Jace.

She bit down on his tongue when he tried to choke her with it, and he pulled back with a curse. He struck her across the face with the back of his hand, hard enough that Clary nearly dropped the knife in her hand, and brought his mouth down to her neck instead.

Clary winced as he bit down on the pulse she knew he could see hammering against her skin. He started to ease his fingers into her jeans.

''What do you mean?'' she asked, though she had little hope of her distraction working this time.

But it did, and his hand once again stilled as he drew back to answer.

''I am an exact replica of father,'' Jonathon replied. ''And you, of mother. We are made for each other like they were, but mother was too stubborn to see.''

He raised both hands to cup the sides of her face, his fingers bruising against her skin. ''That's why father and I have been so strict with you,'' he told her, his eyes wide and deathly serious. ''To help you change into what mother should have been.''

''You're crazy.''

Jonathon blinked at her, her words taking a moment to register with him.

''Dad is not crazy,'' she continued. ''Dad is just a bad person. But you... You are absolutely out of your mind...''

His eyes narrowed at her, anger flashing in them. His fingers pressed harder into her skin, and she supressed a wince, not wanting to show him the weakness.

They both startled when a shot rang out from upstairs.

* * *

Author's Note: Please don't hate me! I have been super ambushed with school and people and real life issues, which I generally avoid, but they caught up with me. I have the weekend to update, and I will likely finish the remaining two chapters this weekend. I will post them as soon as I finish them, so there will be no wait. I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, but it keeps you guys on your toes! PLEASE REVIEW!


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

Jonathon turned toward the sound, giving Clary his back, just as the ropes around her gave completely and her arms and trunk were freed.

There was nothing but silence coming from upstairs, and Jonathon rose to his feet, starting for the stairs to check out the situation. Clary knew she was going to miss her opportunity to make a move if he left.

She lurched forward, using what she could of her weight to topple over, her legs still secured to the chair.

Jonathon wasn't able to turn around in time to avoid Alec's pocketknife digging into his calf, and his scream ripped through the silence. Blood spurted from the wound and painted Clary's face as they crumpled together to the floor.

Clary yanked the knife back out to climb up the length of him, the movement hindered by the chair, and started to drive the knife home in his arm.

He grabbed her arms and rolled them over violently. Clary cried out as her ankle twisted against the leg of the chair, the rope pulling tight and spraining it. Jonathon sat on her stomach, her arms trapped beneath his knees, and swung his fist down toward her face.

Clary managed to roll out of the way fast enough that his fist crashed into the tile behind her head, and his curses drowned out the sound of her blood rushing through her ears. She managed to free her hand with the knife while he was distracted, and dug it into him again.

Jonathon blinked at the new injury, falling silently into shock as he gazed down at her hand on the handle of the knife and the blade tucked to the hilt in his right shoulder. It was exactly where Jace had stabbed him all those years ago, and before Jonathon could react, Clary took a page out of Jace's book and stabbed him another time.

He fell off of her eventually, though he was still conscious. His eyes were glazed over in shock, and his whole front was drenched in blood.

Clary didn't know how long it would last, so she quickly sat up and started yanking at the ties on her ankles that were securing them to the chair. She felt Jonathon's fingers as he weakly, half-heartedly reached for her to stop her, but she just moved out of the way and kept working at the ties.

There was a bang from upstairs, following quickly by several more, and Clary's heart choked in her throat when a second gunshot rang out.

Distantly, Clary heard sirens sounding.

When she was finally freed completely from the chair, she limped toward the stairs, but she wasn't on the first one before more of the banging sounded and someone stumbled onto the top landing.

She saw gold, but she only had a moment to register Jace there before he was stumbling down the stairs toward her.

His shirt was black, but there was something different about it now than when she had seen it earlier. It looked darker, heavier, and it wasn't until he reached the last step and sagged against her that she felt the hot wetness of it against her hands.

When she pulled them away from his chest to look at them, they were stained red.

* * *

Jace dragged her toward the front door.

''Call... The others...'' he whispered weakly. She ducked under his arm, trying her best to support some of his weight over her shoulders, but he was much larger than she was. ''Tell them... To hurry... Before the other cops... Get here...''

Jace noticed they were lagging, slowed down by him, and he moved away from her, shoving her toward the door.

''Go...'' he said, sagging back against the wall.

''What?'' she demanded, turning to face him. His face was drawn in pain and frighteningly pale. Clary felt her heart sink to her stomach. ''Jace, we need to-''

''Go... You have... To make it out... I will only... Slow you down...''

Jace sunk to the floor.

Clary fell down next to him, catching his head in her lap. ''No,'' she said, feeling hot tears start down her cheeks. ''I'm not leaving you.''

''Not for long...'' he whispered, his eyes glazing over. ''I will see you... In my dreams...''

''Jace,'' she hissed, angered by his willingness to give up, shaking her head down at him. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat to say more, but failed.

Staring down into his face, her anger died away as quickly as it had come.

''I told you... I would save you...'' he said, smiling weakly up at her.

The light was fading out of his golden eyes, and Clary felt her blood begin to freeze over in her veins. His eyes were distant, and his skin was growing cold as he lost more and more blood. She couldn't find the source to stop it, but she felt it soaking into her jeans as it pooled on the floor around her.

''Did I do a good job?'' he asked her quietly, his voice breaking.

''Jace...''

''My phone... Clary... Take it and go...'' he breathed. ''I told Alec who to call... If this happened... But you have to... Get back and tell them...''

''Stop talking like you aren't going to make it,'' she sobbed.

He reached up to play with a few of her curls that fell around him in a curtain.

''I love you,'' he said. His fingers tightened around her hair, and he used them to guide her face down to his. The pull was weak, but Clary followed it anyway.

She tried to kiss him, but it only made her cry harder. He whispered sweet nothings up to her, but he was fading fast. The words fell short after only a short while.

The sirens grew louder, and Clary pressed her forehead to Jace's when his eyes finally fluttered closed.

But there was nothing she could do for him. Not here and now.

Clary pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips before grabbing the evidence papers she'd dropped on the floor when Jonathon had grabbed her and slipping Jace's phone out of his pocket.

Without sparing a glance back, knowing her resolve would break if she did, she left.

* * *

Clary called Alec with Jace's phone, surprised that it still worked even after being saturated with blood. She'd taken off once she got outside, running for where they were supposed to be waiting.

They swung by in the car to pick her up before she even made it out of the neighborhood, tucking her and her bloodsoaked clothes into the car just before the police cars and ambulances passed by them.

That was when Clary finally broke.

Simon and Isabelle held her as Alec started to make the calls that needed to be made, Magnus holding his hand tightly in the space between them.

''We have it... Yeah... Jace was... He was shot...''

Clary tried to block out Alec's voice, and Isabelle helped by distracting her with changing her clothes in the backseat of the car while Magnus drove them back out of town.

''We'll come back for him,'' Simon said, squeezing her hand. ''We'll come back for Luke.''

''Everything is going to be okay,'' Isabelle said, running her hands up and down Clary's arms to warm her. But the cold was internal, and the warmth Isabelle was providing couldn't reach that far into her.

''I left him to die on the floor.''

Isabelle pressed her lips into a tight line, saying nothing. Clary moved away, to the side of the car, and pressed her forehead to the glass, staring out at the trees as they flashed by them.

The rest of the ride passed in absolute silence.

* * *

They had kept the hotel room in case they weren't able to recover the evidence, so once they reached it again, Clary crawled beneath the covers that she'd slept under with Jace the night before and closed her eyes.

''Clary...'' Isabelle said, kneeling beside her. ''You're covered in blood, you should get a shower or something. It will make you feel better...''

She did not reply or move.

''I'm upset too. And so are Alec and Magnus. Simon doesn't even like Jace and he is upset,'' Isabelle said softly. ''We are all upset, but we need to be strong right now.''

''Yeah,'' Magnus said, coming to sit on the edge of the cot beside her. ''We don't know what happened to him for sure. The ambulance might have reached him in time.''

A long few moments passed, and they'd nearly given up on reaching her when she finally rose from the cot, her face drawn and set in stubborn, stoic lines. They were sure her determination was more to get away from them than an actual response to what they had said.

She picked clothes out of her bag and went for the bathroom, and the others watched after her, solemn expressions on their faces.

* * *

Things progressed quickly after that. Turns out that some of Jace's connections had connections of their own in the FBI and other branches of the government, and they swarmed down relentlessly on Valentine and every other corrupt soul in his precinct. There were a lot of people still angry about Stephen Herondale's death, and they tore the place apart.

Valentine, Jonathon, and Jace had all been taken out of the house by ambulance, but the conditions of all three were being kept classified as the investigation drew on.

Clary had been banned from the hospital completely after she'd caused a scene when they refused to even tell her if Jace was alive or dead.

Luke was released a day after everything went down, and while Isabelle and Alec went back home to stay with their freshly returned parents and younger brother, she stayed in his apartment over the bookstore with him. Magnus went back to his apartment, and Simon went home to wait for his own family's return.

It was exactly two weeks before the main investigation finally finished, though there were still smaller ones taking place to weed out any further corruption in the precinct that might not have been brought to light yet.

Clary went to her father's trial, but he was not present. It was small and private, but they still would not confide the conditions of Valentine, Jonathon, or Jace. She even agreed to testify, in the hopes that they would divulge that information to her, but they refused.

* * *

Clary got a call from Jace's parents a few hours after the investigation was officially closed. They wouldn't say anything over the phone, just told her to come down to the hospital. Clary could hear the wavering in his mother's voice, and her chest felt heavy.

She threw on some clothes, some that her mother had kept at Luke's place. It broke her heart that he still had them, but at the same time she was extremely grateful. She was not yet cleared to go home and get her things from the crime scene, and she was tired of recycling the same outfits and living out of her duffel bag. Besides, she found them oddly comforting.

Clary made it to the hospital in record time. She was breathless, anxious to see Jace, but security stopped her at the doors. At first she thought it was because of the ban, which was supposed to have been lifted, but a few of the uniformed cops that had come to participate in the investigation were with them and her stomach turned nervously.

''Clarissa Morgenstern,'' one of the cops said, approaching her. ''We need you to come with us.''

Clary swallowed hard. ''I'm going to see Jace-''

''We know,'' he said, cutting her off gently. ''We are here to escort you down to the morgue.''

Every cell and every fiber of Clary's being went still. She must have stopped breathing entirely, because it only took a few moments for her world to start to narrow and twist and turn, and a few more for it to disappear completely.

* * *

Author's Note: Please do not kill me! Just look forward to the next chapter and conclusion of the story. I am so grateful for all of you hanging in there with my story, and I hope you enjoy the ending. PLEASE REVIEW!


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Mortal Instruments or any of its associations.

* * *

CHAPTER 22

Clary woke up on the floor with a crowd of policemen, security, and nurses above her. Relief passed over their faces when they saw her wake, and most of them returned to what they were doing, leaving her only with the policeman that had approached her a few moments before.

''I know it must be upsetting,'' he told her gently, helping her back onto her feet. She swayed, and he steadied her with a hand on her arm. But she was completely numb inside and couldn't feel it, could barely hear him talking to her at all. ''But it's protocol.''

Clary let him guide her through the lobby to the row of elevators, and Clary felt nauseous when he pressed the 'down' button on the wall instead of the 'up'. He had to enter a code to be able to access the morgue, and Clary swallowed down the bile that gathered in her throat.

The policeman put a hand to the small of her back, urging her forward once they'd reached the basement that housed the morgue.

To Clary's surprise, it looked just like the hospital above her, with crisp white walls and patterned tiles beneath her feet. It was deceptive in nature, and didn't calm her nerves as it was meant to.

With each step her breathing grew faster, and the policeman urged her to take deep breaths and try to stay calm. There were benches all along the walls, and Clary wondered how many people couldn't make it any farther than them. Each one was like a checkpoint for her, and instead of thinking about her end goal, she just focused on making it past one checkpoint to the next.

They reached the end of the hallway and turned around a corner, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Standing in front of her, facing the wall and gazing through the viewing window there, was Jace.

* * *

She was crazy. That was the only explanation for the vision before her.

It wouldn't have been the first time that she dreamt of him, and she always woke up from those dreams, each time with a heavier heart.

But she wasn't waking up now, even when he turned toward her, his golden eyes widening slightly in surprise when he registered her standing there.

Clary's eyes wandered lower, down his body to see his right arm in a sling and an IV taped to the other.

The policeman tensed behind her. ''You shouldn't be down here, Mr. Herondale.''

''You shouldn't have left me alone with an easily charmed nurse,'' he replied. Though he was speaking to the officer, his eyes were all for Clary. ''She was awfully upset when I told her that I was taken, but that was after she'd given me access to the basement.''

''You are still healing,'' the policeman pressed. ''You should be in bed.''

''I feel fine right now,'' Jace said. His eyes flickered past Clary finally, to the policeman. ''Can I have a few minutes alone with her?''

Clary could feel his hesitation, but after a long moment of it passed, she felt him move away from her and heard his footsteps disappearing back down the way they had come.

Clary started across the hallway toward Jace, her breath caught in her throat with her words, but when he took a step back and away from her, she stopped dead in her tracks.

''Jace...?''

''I'm sorry.''

His face was drawn, the light facade from his conversation with the policeman falling away, and he wouldn't meet her eyes. They flickered hesitantly toward the viewing window he'd been looking through, and wearily, Clary approached it as well.

There, before her very eyes, was Valentine's body laid out on a metal slab.

Clary's stomach turned, and she had to close her eyes and look away. When she opened them again, Jace was watching her, his expression still guarded.

''He was alive when I left him,'' Jace said quietly. ''He was awake until they got him to the hospital, but the bullet moved or a piece of it did and...''

Jace swallowed hard. ''I didn't mean to, Clary. I didn't mean to kill him.''

She glared up at him, and in a flash of movement, hit him.

* * *

Jace startled back from her, his eyes wide. ''Clary-''

''You idiot!'' she cried, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, hitting him again. ''I thought it was you! I figured if you were alive, you would find a way to call me-''

''They wouldn't let me-'' he started, catching her wrist gently.

She tore it away and hit him again. ''Like you care!'' she yelled. ''Since when do you care about the rules? I thought you were dead, you stupid-!''

Jace grabbed her with his free arm, hooking it around the back of her neck and pulling her to his chest. She struggled at first, but he was patient. It was only a matter seconds before she stopped and sagged against him, sobbing into his shirt.

It was a long while before she calmed, and when she did, he ducked his head down to press a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips.

''Are you still angry?'' he asked her, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She nodded, glaring at him as she wiped her face off with the back of her wrist.

He leaned down to kiss her a second time. He pulled back a moment later, just far enough to look in her eyes. ''Still mad?'' he asked again, and she just pressed her lips into a tight line. He could see her resolve cracking.

With an amused smile, he leaned down and kissed her a third time, this time relentlessly, deepening the kiss when she let out a surprised gasp and forcing her back against the wall.

He smiled against her lips when he felt the last of her tension leave her, and moaned when she finally started to kiss him back. He let the kiss calm, knowing it was not the time or place for it, and his heart warmed when he pulled away and saw the gleam in her eyes that had been missing before.

She sobered a moment later, pulling away from Jace to go back to the viewing window. Her face was blank as she looked upon her father, and after a long while, she turned away to look at Jace again.

''I don't feel anything,'' she said quietly. ''Am I a bad person for not feeling anything?''

Jace reached forward and captured her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. ''You will feel something later, Clary,'' he replied. ''Once you have forgiven him for what he's done.''

''He probably killed my mother,'' Clary said, looking back over her shoulder. ''I will never know if he did or not.''

''You have Luke,'' Jace said, squeezing her hand again. ''He will be what Valentine was never able to be for you.''

Clary nodded absently. Her eyes widened when a thought occurred to her. ''What about my brother?'' she asked. ''What about Jonathon?''

Jace swallowed hard, setting his jaw. ''When I came down the stairs,'' he said tightly. ''Back at your house. Your shirt... It was cut open. And your pants were...''

He couldn't finish his sentence, just pressed his lips into a stubborn line.

''You want to know if he did anything?'' she asked. Jace nodded slowly, though the action was hesitant. ''He didn't manage anything more than Sebastian.''

Jace closed his eyes, sighing in relief. There was still tension in his shoulders, anger in his expression, but it was marginally calmed.

''Jonathon is still here. Healing from his injuries,'' Jace said after a long moment. ''He was tried quietly and deemed insane. He'll be transferred to a psychiatric facility once he is better.''

Clary quietly absorbed this information. Her brother was an accomplice to murder, the worst of all of the crimes he was likely tried for, but he would get out eventually. She just hoped he would be better, different after spending time with people that could help him, body and mind.

The policeman returned a few minutes later to retrieve her, and she went back with Jace to his room.

Once they reached it, Clary was surprised to find it empty of his family. He said nothing in explanation, just rested back down on the bed, obviously tired from his trip down to the morgue. The nurse came in a few seconds later, and with a red face she lectured him as she hooked him back up to the machines and IV fluids.

After she left, Jace held his hand out for Clary, and she took it gently. His fingers wrapped around hers and pulled her to the bed. He released her hand to raise the sheet up for her, and she settled on the bed beside him, tucking herself carefully into the crook of his arm. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, his breath rustling her fire hair.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they were both at peace.

* * *

EPILOGUE

Jace was released two weeks later, after the truth had been made public and everything had calmed down.

Things went on like normal after that.

They returned to school, and Jace and Alec graduated a few months later. Alec got a scholarship to an out of state school, and though they'd had some ups and downs, Magnus followed him. Jace was offered a spot in the Police Academy, and he accepted it, wanting to follow in his father's footsteps.

Clary was less thrilled than he was about his choice of future career, knowing there would always be people like Valentine out there that could take him away from her, but she could see how happy it made him and she supported him despite her concerns.

Clary became a co-owner of Luke's bookstore after she graduated, and together they converted part of the store into an art gallery for Clary's work.

Isabelle and Simon parted ways for a while and dated other people. Isabelle met a singer named Jordan at a karaoke bar, and Simon met a nice girl that frequented the bookstore often named Maia. But after fate intervened and Jordan and Maia ended up together, Isabelle and Simon did too.

Isabelle became a famous model and traveled around the world, and Simon and his band tagged along after her, playing any gigs they could land in whatever random city they would find themselves in. They eloped in Paris at some point, leaving it to the tabloids to announce to the world, and endured the anger of both of their families for years afterward.

When Jace asked Luke for permission to marry Clary a few years down the line, he gave the couple much more than just his blessing. He knew Clary would no longer need him as much once she was married, so he signed over his bookstore to her and gave them the apartment above it.

He reunited with his sister Amatis, whom he'd lost contact with during his depression following Jocelyn's death, and they decided to travel themselves, looking for someplace new for them both to start fresh. He still made it back to see Clary at least twice a year, and even more frequently once she had her first child.

Jace was made Chief of Police five years after he graduated from the academy, right afted he and Clary first discovered that she was pregnant. The promotion kept Jace out of the field for the most part, for which Clary was grateful, especially when the second one came around.

Alec returned after he graduated from college, and moved in down the street from the bookstore so that the child he adopted with Magnus could grow up around Jace and his kids. He and Magnus were able to get married a few years later once the bill was finally passed that allowed them to officially take the vows.

Jonathon was released fifteen years later, but Clary never heard from him. His doctor had given her courtesy calls yearly about his condition, but Clary never went to visit him. At some point during his treatment he must have understood and accepted why she wouldn't.

It was not all rainbows and butterflies after everything that happened. There were bumps along the way for each and every one of them, but they got through them all and always landed on their feet.

Together.

* * *

THE END

* * *

Author's Note: Well... This is it guys. I hope you enjoyed my story, and that the ending was satisfactory. Sorry for the scare about Jace. I thought about killing him off in the epilogue, I am a sucker for sad endings, but I didn't want to be that mean. I didn't want to end what has been an awesome journey for me with you guys on a bad note.

On a completely unrelated note, but one I would appreciate you guys reading, I am working on a book of my own. I intend to finish it this summer and attempt to get it published. I would love all of you to be the first ones to know about it and check it out, so if you would please keep this story on your 'alert' list, I will hopefully be posting something about it during the summer. If you have no interest in it, you can take yourselves off the list or ignore the email notification when/if it comes.

Thank you all for reading! You have all been super amazing and encouraging. This story would probably not have gotten very far without your support. I really appreciate each and every one of you.


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